THE  LIBRARY 


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33 


SIR 


N.X^^\Ljfv7v»^ 


CHATTANOOGA 


CHATTANOOGA 


A    ROMANCE 


AMERICAN   CIVIL  WAR 


BY 

F .    A .    M  I T  C  H  E  L 

LATE   U.   S.  A. 


THIRD  EDITION 


NEW    YORK 

THE    AMERICAN    NEWS    COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS,  WHOLESALE  AGENTS 


COPYRIGHTED,  1891, 

BY 
F.  A.  MITCHEL. 

All  rights  reserved. 


THE    MF.RSHON   COMPANY   PRESS, 
RAHWAY,   N.   J. 


THE  SCENE  OF  THE  STORY. 


WHAT  more  inviting  spot  to  the  romancer  of  the 
Civil  War  than  Chattanooga?  At  least  it  is  so  to 
me.  When  scarcely  out  of  my  "  teens,"  an  aide-de 
camp  on  the  staff  of  my  father,  the  late  General 
O.  M.  Mitchel,  then  operating  in  North  Alabama, 
it  had  all  the  fascination  of  an  objective  point,  a 
place  beyond  the  lines  whence  came  vague  rumors 
and  wherein  lay  that  unknown  force,  the  enemy. 

I  well  remember  once  looking  down  from  a  moun 
tain  plateau  toward  Chattanooga  and  wondering 
what  was  going  on  there.  I  did  not  think  that 
thirty  years  later  the  incident  would  suggest  an 
opening  for  a  story.  Then  some  of  the  great  events 
of  the  war  occurred  there.  Armies  left  Chatta 
nooga  to  march  on  great  campaigns,  or  fought 
battles  "  in  the  clouds "  on  her  heights. 

While  the  story  is  purely  one  of  love  and  ad 
venture,  the  dates,  topography,  location  and  move 
ments  of  troops  referred  to  are  given  correctly. 

F.  A.  M. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     No  MAN'S  LAND, i 

II.  A  CHANGE  OF  UNIFORM,         ...  13 

III.  A  CONFEDERATE  HOUSEHOLD,      ...  28 

IV.  SLACK,  THE  FARMER'S  SON,     ...  37 
V.     GLORIOUS  PERFIDY, 46 

VI.  IN  THE  ENEMY'S  LINES,           ...  55 

VII.  THE  CAMPS  AT  CHATTANOOGA,    ...  64 

VIII.     PASSING  A  PICKET 72 

IX.     A  DESPERATE  SITUATION 84 

X.  THE  RED  SILK  HANDKERCHIEF,      .        .  94 

XI.     DE  CAUSE  OB  FREEDUM 105 

XII.  A  WILLING  SERVANT,      ....  113 

XIII.  FLOATING  FOR  LIFE 121 

XIV.  MARK'S  KEEPER, 136 

XV.      SOURI   AND    JAKEY, 147 

XVI.  A  SOUTH  CAROLINA  GEOLOGIST,      .        .  155 

XVII.     SURPRISED, 168 

XVIII.  OFF  FOR  THE  UNION  LINES,     ...  182 

XIX.  THOMAS  GREEN  AND  WIFE,          .        .        .  195 

XX.     FLIGHT 208 

XXI.    THE  BALL  is  OPENED, 215 


CHATTANOOGA. 


i. 

NO   MAN'S   LAND. 

IT  was  the  2Oth  of  August,  1862.  Corinth 
had  been  evacuated  more  than  two  months 
before.  The  Army  of  the  Ohio  had  moved 
eastward  into  northern  Alabama.  The  Presi 
dent  and  eminent  Union  generals  were  anx 
ious  as  to  east  Tennessee,  where,  it  was  ru 
mored,  the  Confederates  were  preparing  for 
some  new  move. 

High  in  the  Cumberland  Mountains  a  sol 
dier  in  the  blue  and  yellow -uniform  of  a  pri 
vate  of  cavalry  sat  on  his  horse,  looking  down 
on  the  valleys  of  the  Sequatchie  and  the  Ten 
nessee.  A  carbine  was  slung  over  his  shoul 
der,  a  Colt's  revolver  was  at  his  hip.  He  was 
long,  and  lithe,  and  graceful.  About  him  was 
an  air  of  refinement  seldom  found  under  a  pri 
vate's  uniform,  except  during  that  war  which 
called  out  men  from  all  classes,  both  in  the 
North  and  in  the  South.  His  hair  was  light, 


2  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

his  blue  eye  was  restless,  and  denoted  its 
possessor  to  be  a  man  of  great  mental  and 
physical  activity.  While  there  was  something 
statuesque  in  the  appearance  of  the  man  and 
horse,  they  presented  a  marked  contrast, 
accoutered  as  they  were  for  war,  with  the 
peaceful  scenes  before  them  and  about  them. 
Not  a  sound  was  to  be  heard  up  there  in  the 
mountains,  except  such  as  came  from  the  in 
sects  or  the  birds.  The  equestrian  figure, 
mounted  on  its  lofty  pedestal,  was  the  per 
sonification  of  war  in  solitude. 

As  the  soldier  gazed  down  upon  the  expan 
sive  view,  different  expressions  flitted  across 
his  face.  At  one  moment  there  was  a  serious 
look,  such  as  men  wear  on  the  eve  of  battle  ; 
at  another  a  shrinking  expression ;  then  a 
dreamy  one.  He  saw  territory  that  lay  beyond 
the  Union  lines.  He  wondered  what  warlike 
scenes  were  hidden  down  there  within  the 
blending  of  rocks,  and  rivers,  and  undulations, 
lying  calm  and  sweet  before  him  that  summer 
afternoon.  Were  clusters  of  white  tents  there  ? 
Were  brigades,  divisions,  army  corps,  march 
ing?  Now  he  thought  he  could  hear  a  distant 
creaking  of  caissons  and  gun  carriages.  But  he 
knew  this  could  not  be.  If  they  were  there, 
they  were  too  far  to  be  heard.  The  sounds 
never  became  real.  The  young  man's  fancies 


CHATTANOOGA.  3 

were  always  broken  by  the  actual  rustle  of  the 
leaves  or  some  sound  from  the  furred  or 
feathered  inhabitants  of  the  mountains. 

Then  a  scene  he  had  passed  through  the  pre 
vious  evening  came  up  before  him. 

He  stood  in  the  presence  of  a  general  of 
division, — the  finest  specimen  of  physical 
splendor  of  all  the  generals  of  the  Union 
army, —  one  who  was  a  year  later  to  achieve 
the  title  of  "  the  Rock  of  Chickamauga."  The 
general  was  speaking,  while  his  subordinate 
was  listening  respectfully  and  attentively. 

"  I  am  ordered  by  the  Department  Com 
mander  to  find  out  what  is  going  on  at  Chat 
tanooga.  Our  reconnoitering  parties  have 
thus  far  brought  us  nothing  save  that  there  is 
no  enemy  very  near.  We  are  liable  to  be 
flanked  and  cut  off  from  east  Tennessee.  See 
here !  "  He  turned  to  a  map  spread  out  on  a 
pine  table.  "  Here  is  Chattanooga  ;  here  the 
Sequatchie  Valley  ;  up  here  to  the  north  is 
Knoxville,  held  by  General  Kirby  Smith  for 
the  Confederates.  Here  is  Cumberland  Gap. 
If  the  enemy  is  concentrating  at  Chattanooga 
he  may  not  only  hold  it  against  a  greatly 
superior  force,  but  can  march  right  along 
here," — he  traced  the  route  with  his  finger, — 
"  form  a  junction  with  Gerreral  Smith  at 
Knoxville,  and  into  Kentucky.  Louisville  and 


4  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

Cincinnati  will  be  in  danger.  Forrest  and 
Morgan  are  hammering  at  our  communica 
tions  ;  we  get  reports  of  immense  forces  of  the 
enemy  at  Knoxville  ;  everything  points  to  this 
or  some  similar  plan  of  campaign  on  the  part 
of  the  Confederates.  If  so,  they  must  be  con 
centrating  at  Chattanooga  as  a  point  of  ren 
dezvous." 

The  General  paused ;  then  looking  the  sol 
dier  in  the  eye  said  impressively: 

"  You  are  the  only  man  to  whom  I  can  in 
trust  so  important  a  mission.  I  can't  order 
you,  as  you  know,  beyond  our  lines,  except  in 
uniform.  Go  as  far  as  you  dare  as  a  soldier  ;  I 
leave  the  rest  to  you.  Will  you  undertake  to 
bring  me  the  information  we  require?" 

"  I  will,  General." 

"  Very  well.  The  fate  of  this  army,  the  suc 
cess  of  the  Union  arms  in  the  West,  perhaps 
the  prolongation  of  the  war,  depend  upon  you." 

The  young  man  bowed,  but  said  nothing. 

"You  will  need  a  pass  to  get  beyond  our 
pickets."  The  general  drew  a  camp  chair  be 
side  a  pine  table  and  took  up  a  pen.  "  How 
will  you  have  it  written?" 

" '  Pass  Private  Mark  Malone ' — that  name  will 
do  as  well  as  any — 'beyond  our  lines  at  will.'" 

The  general  wrote  the  pass,  and  handing  it 
to  Private  Malone,  "  Go,  and  God  bless  you  !" 


CHATTANOOGA.  5 

he  said.  He  took  his  emissary's  hand  and 
pressed  it  heartily. 

As  the  words,  "  Go,  and  God  bless  you," 
rang  again  in  memory,  the  soldier  touched  the 
flanks  of  his  horse  lightly  with  his  great  brass 
spurs,  and  began  to  descend  the  mountain. 

An  hour  later  he  entered  the  little  town  of 
Jasper.  Riding  up  to  the  tavern  he  reined  in 
his  horse  and  let  him  drink  at  the  rough  wooden 
trough  in  front.  A  number  of  country  people 
were  sitting  on  the  veranda,  and  every  one 
fixed  his  eyes  on  the  soldier  who  sat  on  his 
horse  looking  about  him  with  as  much  apparent 
indifference  as  if  he  were  within  the  Union 
lines.  When  the  animal  had  drunk  his  fill  his 
rider  cast  the  reins  to  a  negro  and  dismounted. 
Then  detaching  his  carbine  from  where  he  had 
hooked  it  to  his  saddle,  he  took  it  in  his  hand  and 
tramped  into  thehouse  to  the  jingle  of  his  spurs. 

Not  a  word  was  spoken  by  those  watching, 
in  admiration,  the  strapping  young  fellow  with 
so  young  a  face  set  on  so  stalwart  a  frame.  He 
paid  no  attention  to  them,  but  walked  into  the 
dining-room  and  called  for  supper.  After  de 
voting  himself  to  a  plate  of  bacon  and  corn 
bread,  with  a  cup  of  chicory  in  lieu  of  coffee 
(for  the  blockade  of  the  Southern  ports  had 
stopped  the  flow  of  the  coffee  bean  from  for 
eign  countries),  he  walked  out  on  the  gallery, 


6  CHATTANOOGA. 

and,  seating  himself  on  a  wooden  bench,  took 
a  briarwood  pipe  and  a  tobacco  pouch  out 
of  his  pocket  and  began  to  smoke. 

Jasper  was  "no  man's  land."  The  people 
living  there  and  thereabout  were  nearly  all 
Confederate  sympathizers,  but  had  learned  to 
look  for  Union  or  Confederate  troops  with  an 
equal  chance  of  either.  From  the  moment  of 
the  soldier's  arrival  they  had  discussed  his  com 
ing  in  whispers.  Soldiers  of  either  side  usually 
came  in  numbers.  It  was  seldom  that  a  single 
trooper  had  the  hardihood  to  enter  the  town 
of  Jasper  alone,  especially  one  wearing  the 
blue.  Presently  an  old  man,  dressed  in  "  butter 
nut,"  got  up  from  his  seat  among  the  loungers 
and  approached  the  stranger  for  the  purpose  of 
reconnoiter: 

"Reckon  y'  come  from  Decherd,  Yank?" 

"Thereabout." 

"Over  the  mountains?" 

"Yes." 

"You  uns  got  many  sojers  over  thar?" 

"Where?" 

"At  Sparty." 

"No." 

"  Murfreesboro'  ?  " 

"I  don't  know." 

"Reckon  thar's  a  powerful  sight  at  McMinn- 
ville?" 


CHA1TAXOOGA.  7 

"A  division,  perhaps." 

The  man  paused  a  moment  and  then  went  on : 

"Thet's  an  all  fired  peart  rifle  o'  yourn. 
Wouldn't  mind  letten  me  handle  it,would  yer  ?" 

Mark  cocked  the  piece,  took  off  the  cap,  and 
handed  it  to  his  interrogator.  He  still  had  his 
revolver,  while  the  man  had  a  weapon  which 
could  not  be  fired  without  a  percussion  cap. 

"  Wai  now,  thet's  quar." 

The  man  looked  from  the  rifle  to  the  soldier, 
not  knowing  which  to  admire  most,  the  mech 
anism  of  the  former  or  the  coolness  of  the  lat 
ter.  Then  he  handed  it  back. 

"  You  ain't  no  Yank." 

"Why  not?" 

"Yanks  don't  come  down  hyar  all  alone. 
Besides  a  Yankee  sojer  wouldn't  ride  a  blooded 
mar  like  that-a-one.  Morgan's  men  rides  them 
kind  o'  critters  and  wears  them  uniforms  some 
times." 

Mark  smiled  knowingly. 

"You  think  I'm  one  of  Colonel  Morgan's 
men,  do  you?  " 

"Reckon  yer  one  o'  ourn,  anyway." 

And  the  man  walked  away,  well  satisfied 
with  his  penetration. 

The  soldier  got  up,  went  into  the  tavern  and 
paid  for  his  supper  with  one  of  the  postal  shin- 
plasters  used  at  the  time  in  lieu  of  silver; 


8  CHATTANOOGA. 

then  he  came  out  and  called  for  his  horse. 
While  waiting  he  stood  leaning  against  a  post 
of  the  gallery,  maintaining  the  same  easy  confi 
dence  that  had  characterized  him  since  his  ar 
rival.  Presently  a  negro  came  around  from 
the  barn,  leading  the  slender-legged  mare,  and 
the  soldier,  sauntering  up  to  her  leisurely, 
stroked  her  neck  ;  then  mounting,  without  once 
looking  at  his  observers,  he  rode  away. 

But  Private  Malone's  confidence  was  all  as 
sumed.  He  did  not  start  on  the  road  he  de 
signed  to  follow;  he  trotted  off  up  the  valley 
intendi-ng  later  to  find  a  path  or  a  cross  road 
which  \vould  take  him  southward  to  the  Chat 
tanooga  pike.  He  suspected  that  the  group  he 
was  leaving  would  not  suffer  him  to  ride  that 
night  in  safety,  and  he  did  not  care  to  let  them 
know  his  true  route. 

Mark  trotted  on  up  the  road  while  the  daylight 
was  fading.  He  was  musing  upon  the  difficult, 
the  hazardous  task  before  him.  The  road  was 
deserted  except  by  himself ;  the  evening  was 
still,  and  his  horse's  hoofs  beat  loud  on  the 
stones  beneath  him.  When  he  was  riding  in 
the  open,  he  felt  comparatively  confident ;  but 
upon  entering  a  thicket  he  would  uneasily 
reach  down  and  put  his  hand  upon  his  rifle. 
He  knew  the  bushwhacker  of  the  period,  and 
fancied  that  a  rifle  or  a  shotgun  lurked  behind 


CHATTANOOGA.  9 

every  tree.  Amid  the  peaceful  quiet  of  a  sum 
mer  evening  in  the  country,  it  was  strange  that 
one  should  look  for  death  ;  none  but  a  prac 
ticed  scout  would  have  been  thus  on  the  alert. 

The  twilight  was  nearly  faded.  Mark  had 
gone  about  three  .miles  from  the  tavern,  when 
nearing  a  fork  in  the  road  he  heard  : 

"Halt,  thar!" 

Instinctively  his  hand  went  to  the  handle  of 
his  revolver,  for  the  sound  was  near  enough  to 
indicate  that  a  pistol  rather  than  a  rifle  might 
be  needed. 

"Air  you  uns  the  sojer  ez  tuk.supper  at  the 
tavern  at  Jasper?  "  asked  a  voice,  singularly 
soft  for  a  bushwhacker. 

"Well,  suppose  lam!  " 

"  I  know  y'  from  yer  voice." 

"  How's  that  ?  "  asked  the  soldier,  puzzled. 

"Kind  o'  deep  and  smooth  like.  Y'  mought  as 
wall  put  up  yer  shooten  iron.  I  got  a  bead  ony'." 

Mark  could  see  no  one,  but,  judging  from  the 
voice  of  the  speaker,  his  alarm  partially  subsided. 

"  I  reckoned  y'  mought  come  along  hyar,  so  I 
jist  squatted  and  waited." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  want  with  me?  " 

"  I'm  one  o'  the  Slacks.  We're  Union,  we 
Slacks  air.  They're  goen  to  drive  us  out  soon, 
I  reckon." 


10  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  Union,  eh?  What  are  you — man,  woman 
boy,  or  girl  ?  " 

"I'm  a  gal." 

"The  Dickens.  What  are  you  stopping  me 
for  at  the  muzzle  of  a  gun  ?  " 

"  Lordy  !  How'd  I  know  y'  ?  Y'  mought  a 
ben  a  bushwhacker.  I  war  at  the  tavern  whar 
y'  tuk  sopper.  The  landlord's  wife,  she's  my 
aunt.  I  sor  y'  come  in  and  hearn  y'  talken  to 
old  Venables.  They  reckoned  y'  war  Confed 
erate  till  y'  paid  in  Yankee  shinplasters  ;  then 
they  reckoned  y'  mought  be  Yankee  after  all." 

Mark  began  to  be  interested.  It  was  now 
evident  to  him  that  this  being,  ensconsed  be 
hind  a  snake  fence,  holding  him  under  cover  of 
a  gun,  was  a  friend  instead  of  an  enemy. 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  I  kem  out  hyar  to  tell  y'  'bout  it." 

"  Then  let  me  see  you  as  well  as  hear  you." 

A  figure  with  a  gun  climbed  over  the  fence 
and  advanced  toward  the  soldier.  When  it 
came  near  enough  Mark  saw  a  girl  who  might 
be  anywhere  between  sixteen  and  eighteen,  for 
her  skirt  only  reached  to  the  tops  of  her  shoes, 
and  her  hair  was  cut  square  around  her  neck. 
She  came  very  near  to  him  and  spoke  in  a  low 
tone : 

"After  y'  left  the  tavern  some  on  'em  'lowed 


CHATTANOOGA.  II 

y'  was  Union,  and  some  on  'em  'lowed  y'  was 
Confederate ;  least-a-ways,  they  wasn't  sartin. 
Uncle,  he's  bad  secesh,  and  he  'lowed  y'  was 
Union  and  bound  on  some  errant  fur  the  Yan 
kees.  So  he  pursuaded  several  on  'em  ter 
mount  'n  follow  y'.  They  was  gitten  ready, 
and  I  slipped  out  to  the  barn  and  tuk  my 
pony,  what  I  rode  over  on  this  afternoon,  'n 
Jakey's  squirrel  gun  (Jakey's  my  brother),  what 
I  allus  carries  when  I  ride  round  in  these  hyar 
war  times,  'n  I  makes  tracks  cross  country  by 
a  trail  I  allus  goes  to  uncle's,  'n  comes  hum 
agin,  while  the  men  air  comen  by  the  road.  I 
jist  rode  Sally  Maria  among  the  trees  thar  and 
tied  her  and  squatted  behind  the  fence  till  y' 
come  along  and — Lordy  sakes  !  " 

"  What's  the  matter  now  ?  " 

"  Listen !  " 

They  were  both  quiet  for  a  moment,  the 
girl's  two  big  black  eyes  denoting  her  anxiety. 
They  could  distinctly  hear  the  tread  of  horses 
coming  on  a  brisk  lope. 

Without  a  word  the  girl  seized  Mark's  bridle 
rein  and  led  horse  and  rider  off  the  road  into 
the  wood.  At  a  short  distance  behind  a  rise  in 
the  ground,  she  stopped.  Mark  was  inclined  to 
go  on  further. 

"  No,  no,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  My  pony's 
right  thar.  If  she  ketches  sight  o'  your  horse 
she'll  whinny." 


12  CHATTANOOGA. 

Mark  dismounted,  and  the  girl,  plucking  a 
handful  of  grass,  held  it  to  his  horse's  mouth 
to  keep  his  attention  from  other  matters  that 
he  might  not  neigh  and  betray  them.  The 
two  stood  looking  at  each  other,  while  the 
sounds  grew  lounder,  dreading  every  moment 
that  either  one  of  their  horses  might  give  the 
signal  that  would  lead  to  their  discovery. 
There  were  evidently  not  less  than  half  a  dozen 
of  the  horsemen  on  the  road  ;  altogether  too 
many  for  one  man,  even  if  well  armed,  to  meet. 

The  men  rode  up  to  the  fork  of  the  road, 
where  they  reined  in  their  horses  for  a  parley. 
It  was  a  question,  doubtless,  which  road  the 
Yankee  soldier  had  taken.  Presently  they 
divided,  one  party  taking  the  left  hand  road  to 
Tracy  City,  the  other  the  road  leading  up  the 
valley. 

As  soon  as  they  were  gone,  Mark  took  the 
girl's  hand  and  gave  it  a  grateful  pressure: 

"  God  bless  you,  my  girl ;  you've  saved  me 
from  capture  or  being  shot  in  the  back — shot, 
I  expect." 

The  girl  shuddered.  She  knew  well  enough 
the  fate  he  would  have  met  if  his  pursuers  had 
overtaken  him.  They  would  have  come  upon 
him  warily  and  shot  him  from  behind  a  tree. 
When  the  sounds  from  the  retreating  horse 
men  had  died  away  in  the  distance,  she  said  : 

"  Come  !  " 


II. 

A    CHANGE   OF  UNIFORM. 

rPHE  soldier  followed  her,  leading  his  horse, 
A  till  they  came  upon  her  own  pony  tied  to 
a  sapling.  Mark  offered  to  help  her  mount, 
but  she  was  not  used  to  such  civility,  and  lead 
ing  her  horse  to  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree, 
mounted  by  herself. 

Crossing  the  road  the  two  entered  a  wood 
on  the  other  side.  The  girl  kept  a  straight 
course  till  she  came  to  a  creek  which  she 
forded  below  and  near  a  log  that  had  been 
felled  across  it  to  be  used  for  a  foot  bridge. 
On  the  further  side  she  struck  an  old  road, 
abandoned,  at  least,  for  wheels.  Mark  rode  up 
alongside  of  her.  She  was  a  wild-looking 
thing,  with  hardly  a  trace  of  civilization  about 
her  except  her  calico  dress  and  cowhide 
shoes. 

"Where  are  you  taking  me  to?"  asked 
Mark. 

"Hum." 

"  Where's  home?  " 


1 4  Off  A  TTA  NOOGA . 

"  Tother  side  o'  th'  Sequatchie  River." 

"  How  far  is  it  to  the  river?  " 

"  'Bout  a  mile  from  the  creek  we  just 
crossed." 

"  And  how  far  from  the  river  to  your  home  ?  " 

"  'Bout  another  mile.  We  live  on  a  road 
ez  runs  from  the  Chattenoogy  pike  to  An 
derson." 

"  That's  well.     I  want  to  reach  the  pike." 

"Wai,  y'll  only  hev  ter  go  a  couple  o'  mile 
from  our  house  t1  git  thar." 

"  You  seem  to  know  all  about  this  country." 

"  Reckon  I  do.  I  was  born  hyar.  I  done  a 
heap  o'  hunten  in  these  hyar  woods.  I  toted 
a  gun  all  over  'em." 

"  Tell  me  something  about  yourself.  What's 
your  name?  " 

"  Souri." 

"  Souri  what  ?  " 

"  Slack." 

"  Oh  yes !  You're  one  of  the  Slacks,  you 
told  me.  Isn't  Souri  a  singular  name  for  a 
girl?" 

"  Wai,  dad  he  kem  from  Missouri.  So  that's 
what  he  named  me." 

"  Have  you  a  mother?" 

"  Yas." 

"  Brothers  and  sisters?  " 

"  Henery  and  Jakey." 


CHATTANOOGA.  15 

"  How  old  are  they?" 

"  Henery,  he's  'bout  twenty-two.  He's  in 
Jim  Brown's  company  o'  east  Tennessee  Cav 
alry?  " 

"What?     Union  cavalry  ?" 

"Yas." 

"You  mean  regiment,  not  company.  I  know 
Brown  well.  How  old  is  your  other  brother?" 

"  Jakey  ?  he's  thirteen." 

"  At  home  ?  " 

"  Yas." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  when 
you  get  me  to  your  home  ?  " 

"Take  y'  to  the  barn,  I  reckon." 

"  Why  not  to  the  house  ?  Aren't  your  folks 
all  right?  I  thought  you  said  they  were 
Union." 

"  Oh,  they're  all  Union.  But  mebbe  they 
mought  suspect  at  the  tavern  (seein  I'm  gone 
'thout  sayen  good-by  and  knowen  I'm  Union), 
that  I  ve  put  y'  up  to  somepen  or  tuk  y' 
hum." 

"  Souri,"  said  Mark  meditatively,  "  do  you 
know  that  since  I  met  you  I  have  been " 

"  Doin'  a  job  o'  thinkin'  ?  " 

"  You've  hit  it  exactly." 

"What  about?" 

"  I've  been  thinking  that  you're  nobody's 
fool." 


1 6  CHA  TTA  NOOGA . 

The  girl  laughed,  or  rather  chuckled.  She 
enjoyed  the  compliment  and  was  too  unsophis 
ticated  to  pretend  that  she  did  not. 

They  soon  struck  a  dirt  road  leading  directly 
south,  which  they  followed  till  they  came  to 
the  Sequatchie  River,  striking  a  ford  at  the 
same  time.  Souri  led  the  way  into  the  ford, 
Mark  following.  Her  pony  was  used  to  such 
crossings,  this  one  in  particular,  while  Mark's 
horse  preferred  to  feel  his  way  slowly  ;  conse 
quently  Souri  reached  the  opposite  bank  before 
Mark  had  got  half  way  over. 

It  was  now  night,  but  it  was  clear,  and  a  half 
moon  cast  its  faint  light  upon  the  land  and  the 
river.  Mark  suddenly  looked  up  from  the 
water,  and  saw  Souri  on  the  bank  watching 
him.  Had  he  been  near  enough  he  would  have 
seen  anxiety  depicted  on  every  feature  of  her 
face. 

"Keep  up  the  stream!  "  she  called,  pointing 
at  the  same  time. 

He  turned  his  horse's  head  as  she  directed, 
but  soon,  lowering  his  eyes  to  the  water,  began 
to  go  down  stream  again. 

"  Look  at  me  " ;  she  called,  "  don't  look  at 
the  water.  It's  runnen  makes  it  seem  sif  y'  war 
goen  straight  when  yer  goen  crooked.  Thur's 
a  ledge  o'  rocks  below  thar  and  deep  water 
beyond." 


CHA  T  TA  NOOGA.  17 

Mark  fixed  his  eyes  on  his  guide,  and  turn 
ing  his  horse's  head  toward  her,  urged  her  for 
ward.  She  picked  her  way  slowly,  as  if  con 
scious  of  danger,  and  at  last,  coming  to  the 
brink,  stepped  quickly  out  of  the  water  and 
shook  herself. 

"  What  makes  you  tremble  so  ?  "  he  asked 
of  Souri. 

"  I  ain't,"  she  said,  coloring. 

"  Is  that  a  dangerous  ford  ?  " 

"  Ef  you'd  a  tumbled  offen  the  ledge  y'd  a 
drownded." 

"  I've  done  some  scouting  before  this,  but  I 
see  now  that  I  haven't  learned  to  cross  a  cur 
rent  till  to-day.  Next  time  I'll  look  out  for 
something  on  shore  to  steer  by." 

Another  ten  minutes  brought  them  home. 
They  came  upon  the  house  from  its  rear.  It 
fronted  on  the  road  running  northward,  and 
faced  east.  Souri  led  the  way  to  a  rickety  barn, 
where  both  horses  were  stabled.  She  left 
Mark  in  the  barn  while  she  went  into  the 
house  to  inform  the  inmates  of  his  presence. 

Presently  she  came  out. 

"  Dad  lows  y"  mought  come  in  fur  a  spell 
'thout  much  resk.  They  won't  know  o'  y'r 
bein'  hyar  yet  a  while.  Least-a-ways  thar's  no 
hurry.  But  dad  reckons  y'  mought  sleep  in 
the  barn  with  one  eye  open." 


1 8  CHA  TTA  NOOGA . 

"  I  shall  not  sleep  anywhere  to-night.  I 
must  go  on.  But  I'll  go  in  with  you  for  a 
while." 

A  man  met  them  at  the  door  with  white, 
shocky  hair  and  a  stubble  beard.  He  looked 
sixty,  though  he  was  ten  or  fifteen  years 
younger.  He  walked  as  if  he  were  following 
the  plow.  His  trousers  were  drawn  nearly  up 
to  his  arm-pits,  a  double-breasted  waistcoat 
served  in  lieu  of  a  coat,  and  an  old  woolen  hat 
covered  his  head  to  the  back  of  his  neck. 

"Them  blue  clothes  looks  kinder  peart  to 
we  uns  down  hyar,  ez  ain't  seen  nothen  but 
gray,"  said  the  man.  "  I  'lowed  when  you  uns 
went  up  ter  Chattenoogy  last  June  and  fired 
them  big  guns  at  the  town  yer  was  agoin'  to 
hold  onto  these  hyar  parts." 

"  Perhaps  it  was  a  mistake,"  said  Mark,  "  but 
I  never  criticise  the  acts  of  my  superiors." 

"Come  inter  th'  house." 

The  dwelling  was  composed  of  two  square 
log  houses,  some  ten  feet  apart,  under  one 
roof,  with  a  floor  between  the  two.  The  man 
led  Mark  into  one  of  these  parts  or  houses. 
The  articles  in  it  that  struck  the  soldier's  eye 
were:  a  very  high  bedstead,  heightened  further 
by  a  feather  bed ;  a  chest  of  drawers,  and  a 
clock  on  the  mantle,  that  ticked  loud  enough 
to  be  heard  out  in  the  barn.  There  were  some 


CHATTANOOGA.  19 

pieces  of  rag  carpet  on  the  floor,  two  or  three 
hard-seated  chairs,  and  a  rocker. 

"What  yer  got  fur  supper?"  the  old  man 
asked  as  his  wife  entered. 

"  I  don't  want  any  supper,"  said  the  soldier. 
"  I  only  ate  an  hour  or  two  ago." 

The  woman,  who  was  bent  down  through 
some  nervous  disease,  went  to  the  chest  of 
drawers,  took  therefrom  a  cob  pipe  and  some 
tobacco,  and  began  to  smoke. 

"  Much  shaken  among  the  sojers,-stranger?" 
she  asked. 

"  At  the  beginning  of  a  fight  there's  a  good 
deal,"  replied  Mark;  "but  after  they're  once 
in,  they  get  on  without  much  trouble." 

"Don't  mean  that  kind  o'  shaken  ;  ager." 

"  Oh,  ague.  No,  I  don't  think  there's  much 
ague." 

"Fever?" 

"  There's  always  more  or  less'  camp  fever. 
It  seems  as  if  every  man  who  campaigns  in  this 
country  must  have  a  dose  of  typhoid  to  get 
acclimated." 

"  Thur's  a  powerful  lot  o'  fevers  'bout  hyar. 
Thur's  the  typhoid,  the  broken  bone,  the  in- 
termitten,  and  the  ranitten,  and  onct  en  a 
while  we  git  yaller  Jack  when  it  comes  up  the 
Mississippi  from  Orleans." 

"  That's  a  good  deal  of  fever,"  replied  Mark  ; 


CHATTANOOGA. 

"  but,  to  come  down  to  business,  I  want  to  say 
a  few  words  to  you  people.  You're  sure  you're 
Union?" 

"  Sartin,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Got  a  young'un  in  Jim  Brown's  company 
of  east  7>;/nesseans,"  said  the  old  woman. 
"  I  hearn  th'  all  hed  the  measles  in  th'  spring. 
Henery  hed  it." 

"  Yes,  that  regiment  was  nearly  all  down  at 
one  time.  Now,  I'm  going  on  a  very  dan 
gerous  mission.  May  I  rely  on — who  are 

you  ?" 

A  boy  about  thirteen  years  of  age  had  come 
into  the  room,  and  squaring  himself  before 
Mark  began  to  stare  at  him. 

"  Jake,"  replied  the  intruder. 

"I  have  something  of  importance  to  say  to 
your  father  and  mother."  Then  turning  to  the 
parents,  "  Won't  you  please  send  him  out  ?  " 

"  Jes's  y'  li'ke  stranger,"  answered  the  father, 
"  but  mebbe  Jake  mought  show  y'  th'  way  or 
somep'n.  He's  purty  peart." 

Jake's  appearance  did  not  bear  witness  to 
the  encomium. 

"  Well,  let  him  stay.  I  would  like  to  rely 
on  this  house  as  a  place  of  refuge  in  case  I  have 
to  get  back  here  rapidly.  I  want  you  to  take 
care  of  my  horse,  and  if  I  never  come  you  can 
keep  him.  If  I  do  come,  I'll  pay  you  more  lib- 


CHATTANOOGA.  21 

erally  for  horse  fodder  than  you  ever  were 
paid  before." 

"  You  talk  purty  rich  fer  a  common  sojer." 

"Don't  fear  for  that.  I  have  money,"  and 
Mark  showed  a  roll  of  bills  that  astonished  his 
host. 

"  Do  you  agree?  " 

"  Sarten,  but  the  money  don't  make  no  differ. 
I'm  a  Union  man  to  the  backbone." 

"  Have  you  any  citizen's  clothes  ?  " 

"  Thur's  Henery's  store  clothes,  ez  he  left 
when  he  went  to  jine  th'  army." 

"  Will  they  fit  me  ?  " 

"  Reckon  so.     Henery's  'bout  your  size," 

Slack  took  the  soldier  into  the  twin  log  cabin 
and  there  gave  him  a  suit  of  clothes  which 
were  intended  for  best  wear,  but  they  had  evi 
dently  been  so  intended  for  years,  with  fre 
quent  deviations  from  the  intention.  Mark 
took  off  his  uniform  which,  with  his  rifle  and 
pistol  and  other  accouterments  he  put  under 
the  bed.  Then  he  drew  off  his  boots  (so  loose 
that  he  could  easily  remove  them  without  un 
buckling  his  spurs),  and  put  on  a  pairof  shoes. 
A  felt  hat  completed  his  attire. 

"  La  sakes  ! "  said  Souri,  raising  her  hands  as 
she  met  him  passing  between  the  cabins,  thus 
arrayed  for  secret  service. 

As  Mark   entered   the  room  where  he   had 


2  2  CHA  TTA  NOOGA . 

left  Mrs.  Slack  and  Jakey,  their  eyes  stood  out 
worideringly.  Jakey 's  admiration  for  the  sol- 
dier  in  uniform  had  been  great, but  one  who  could 
suddenly  transform  himself  was  an  object  of  cu 
riosity.  Mr.  Slack  followed  Mark  into  the  room. 

"  Now,  how  about  the  road  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

"Whar?" 

"  To  Chattanooga." 

"  Wai,  y'  mought  go  right  up  the  road  in 
front  'n  the  house  fur  'bout  a  mile.  Then 
y'll  come  ter  a  road  leadin'  sort  o'  southeast 
like.  Ef  y'  go  down  this  ar  road  it'll  take  y' 
ter  th'  Chattenoogy  pike.  Jakey,  you  mought 
go  along  'n  show  'm  th'  way." 

"  Do  you  know  the  road  your  father  speaks 
of,  leading  to  the  Chattanooga  pike?  "asked 
Mark  of  the  boy. 

"  Does  I  know  Souri  ?  " 

"  None  o'  them  side-a-ways  talken,  Jake. 
Answer  straight,"  said  Mr.  Slack  severely. 

"  Recken  I  does.  I  knows  all  th'  roads  'bout 
hyar." 

Mark  looked  at  the  boy  and  thought  a  few 
moments  without  speaking.  He  was  a  stupid- 
looking  child,  but  Mark  thought  that  if  he 
could  get  him  to  go  with  him  it  might  avert 
suspicion.  Were  he  brighter  he  might  be  of 
use,  perhaps.  At  any  rate,  he  would  doubtless 
serve  some  purpose. 


CHA  TTANOOGA,  23 

"  Jakey,"  he  asked,  "how  would  you  like  to 
go  with  me  on — a  trip  ?  " 

"  How  would  I  like  to  shoot  squirrels?" 

"  You  Jake !  Didn't  I  tell  yer  t'  answer 
straight  ?  "  from  the  father. 

"  Yas,  I'd  like  ter  go." 

"  I've  a  mind  to  take  you,  if  your  father  will 
let  you  go,"  said  Mark  meditatively. 

"Many  fevers  'bout  Chattenoogy  ?  "  asked 
the  mother,  taking  her  pipe  out  of  her  mouth 
and  casting  an  anxious  glance  at  her  son. 

"  What  yer  goen  ter  do  with  him  ?  "  asked 
Slack. 

"  I  only  want  him  for  a  companion — to  divert 
suspicion — and — well  I  can't  tell  exactly  what, 
for  an  emergency, — perhaps." 

"  What's  a  'mergency  ?  "  asked  Jakey. 

"  Well,  if  I  should  learn  something  of  im 
portance,  I  might  want  to  send  you  back  with 
the  news  ;  or  if  I  should  be  caught  in  a — in 
a ' 

"Tree,  like  a  coon,  with  a  gun  or  a  dorg  be 
low,"  supplied  Jakey. 

"  That's  it  exactly.  I  might  want  to  send 
word  about  that." 

"  I'm  afeard  he's  too  little  ter  be  of  any  use 
that-a-way,"  said  the  father. 

"  Oh,  Jakey  can't  go.  He's  got  ter  stay 
right  hyar  'n  do  hoen',"  chimed  his  mother. 


2  4  CHA  T  TA  NOOGA . 

"  What  do  you  say,  Jakey  ?  Do  you  want  to 
go?"  asked  Mark. 

"Would  I ?" 

"  You  Jake  !  "  again  shouted  his  father. 

"  Course  I  want  ter  go." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  If  you  will  let 
him  go  I'll  bring  him  or  send  him  back  safely, 
and  leave  a  twenty  dollar  greenback  here  with 
you  for  him  on  his  return." 

"  Souri !  Souri !  "  called  Slack. 

Souri  came  in  so  quickly  as  to  argue  that 
she  had  not  been  out  of  hearing  of  all  that  had 
passed. 

"  Snack  fur  these  two  uns,"  said  her  father. 

Souri  departed,  and  presently  returned  with 
a  bundle  containing  cold  eatables. 

"  Now,  Jakey,"  said  his  father,  as  they  all 
stood  at  the  front  gate  before  the  departure  of 
the  two  travelers,  "  remember  yer  a  Unioner, 
'n  treat  the  stranger  far." 

"  Oh,  I  ain'  no  slouch  'f  I  am  little,"  replied 
the  boy,  with  a  shrug  and  a  scowl,  indicating 
that  he  regarded  the  injunction  entirely  un 
called  for. 

" 'N  Jakey,"  called  his  mother,  "don't  yer 
go  en  sleep  out  nights  'n  git  th'  ager." 

"  Never  yer  mind,  maw.  I  ain't  go'n  ter  git 
no  ager." 

The  two  started  off  up  the  road.     The  air 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  25 

was  pleasant,  and  it  was  not  too  warm  for 
tramping.  They  passed  out  of  the  clearing 
and  were  about  entering  the  wood  into  which 
the  road  took  them  when  they  heard  a 
step  behind  them.  Turning,  there  was 
Souri. 

"  How  long  d'  y'  'low  y'  mought  be  gone 
down  thar?  "  she  asked. 

Mark  looked  into  her  face  and  she  lowered 
her  eyes. 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  know,  Souri  ?  " 

"  Wai,  maw,  she'll  worrit  'bout  Jakey." 

"  I  can't  tell  you." 

"  How  fur  y*  goen  ?  " 

"To  Chattanooga.  Perhaps  further,  but 
not  likely." 

"  What'll  th*  do  tf  y'  ef  they  ketch  y'?" 

"  They'll  probably  lift  me  off  my  feet  with  a 
hemp  cord." 

"  They  won't,  will  they  ?  Don't  talk  that-a- 
way." 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  black  eyes  and 
shivered. 

"  I  guess  I  can  get  through  all  right,"  said 
Mark  reassuringly.  "  I've  done  it  before." 

The  girl  stood  for  a  few  moments  irresolute. 
Then  she  drew  a  red  silk  handkerchief  from  her 
bosom  and  handed  it  to  Mark.  It  was  the  only 
bit  of  finery  she  possessed. 


26  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

"  What  is  that  for,  Souri  ?  "  asked  Mark,  af 
fected  in  spite  of  himself. 

"Wai,  ef  I  don't  see  y'  no  more,  y'  mought 

keep  et  ter —  ter .  Mebbe  ef  y'  git  inter 

trouble  y'  mought  find  a  chance  ter  send  it  ter 
me — Jakey  mought  tote  it — 'n  I'll  go  down  'n 

— 'n "  She  turned  away.  It  was  evident 

she  could  not  clearly  express  her  meaning,  and 
her  voice  was  getting  husky. 

"Good-by,  my  little  girl,"  said  Mark,  going 
up  to  her  and  taking  her  hand.  "  I  have  a 
notion  that  if  it  is  necessary  to  the  Union 
cause  for  my  life  to  be  saved  again,  you  will 
be  on  hand  to  save  it." 

Then  the  girl  went  back  to  the  house  and 
the  travelers  went  on  their  way. 

"  Jakey,"  asked  Mark,  "  can  your  sister  read 
writing?  " 

"  Reckon  not." 

"  Can  you  ?  " 

"  Can  I  sing  like  a  bird  ?" 

"Do  you  mean  that  you  can  or  you  can't?" 

"  I  can't." 

"Well, your  sister  is  a  good  girl,  and  a  smart 
girl,  and  a  courageous  girl.  She  has  saved  me 
once,  and  if  I  get  into  trouble  I  would  rather 
have  her  near  by  than  a  sergeant  and  ten  men." 

"  Reckon  she  giv  y'  th'  hanshicuf  ter  send 
instead  o'  writen." 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  2  7 

Mark  looked  down  into  the  stupid  face  of 
the  boy  beside  him.  He  began  to  think  that 
the  child's  stupidity  was  not  flattering  to  him 
self,  inasmuch  as  Jakey  had  penetrated  farther 
than  he  had  into  Souri's  design,  and  her  diffi 
dence  as  to  confessing  her  ignorance. 

"  I  hope  there'll  be  no  necessity  for  that, 
Jakey.  But  we  must  arrange  what  we  shall 
pass  for  in  Dixie.  Now  do  you  know  what 
you  are  ?  " 

"  Do  I  ?  " 

"  Yes,  do  you  ?  " 

"I'm  y'r  little  brother." 

"  Exactly  ;  and  what  are  we  going  to  Chat 
tanooga  for  ?  What  shall  we  tell  'em  ?  " 

"  Goen  ter  buy  caliker  fur  maw  'n  Souri,  'n 
galluses  fur  paw,  'n  terbacker  fur  you  uns,  'n  a 
squirrel  gun  fur  me  !  " 

When  he  came  to  the  squirrel  gun  his  little 
eyes  glistened  under  the  rim  of  his  hat. 

"  By  George  !  "  exclaimed  Mark  laughing, 
"you  ought  to  be 'Old  Pap's'  chief  scout  in 
stead  of  me." 

"'S  that  what  y'  air?" 

"  I  am,  just  now." 

"  Golly !  " 


III. 

A  CONFEDERATE  HOUSEHOLD. 

MARK  and  Jakey  trudged  on.  They  met 
no  one  on  the  way,  but  at  one  part  of 
the  road,  running  through  a  thick  wood,  they 
saw  a  light  in  the  distance  to  the  right  in  the 
thickest  part.  They  halted  for  a  moment  and 
then  advanced  cautiously.  Coming  to  a  place 
where  they  could  get  a  view  of  what  the  light 
revealed,  they  saw  several  men  in  "  butternut," 
whose  horses  were  picketed  near  by,  lying 
around  the  embers  of  a  fire. 

"  Guerrillas,"  quoth  Mark. 

Not  caring  to  disturb  these  villains,  who  had 
no  more  respect  for  Confederates  than  Union 
ists,  they  passed  on  stealthily. 

About  midnight  they  came  to  a  rivulet, 
and  Mark  concluded  to  bivouac  there.  They 
turned  in  among  the  trees  beside  the  road. 

"  Jakey,"  said  Mark,  "  before  we  go  a  step 
farther  or  do  anything,  in  fact,  we  must  fix 
this  money." 

He  pulled  his  roll  of  bills  from  his  pocket. 

"  Take  off  your  boot,"  he  said. 
28 


CHATTANOOGA.  29 

Jakey  pulled  off  his  boot  and  handed  it  to 
his  companion.  Mark  took  a  number  of  bills, 
and  ripping  out  the  lining  of  the  boot  put  it 
back  in  its  place  with  the  bills  under  it. 
Smoothing  it  down,  he  handed  the  boot  back 
to  Jakey,  and  told  him  to  put  it  on  again. 

They  took  a  bite  of  the  snack  Souri  had  pre 
pared  for  them  and  a  drink  from  the  rivulet. 
Then  they  laid  down,  resting  their  heads  against 
the  root  of  a  tree.  It  was  not  long  before 
Jakey  was  asleep,  and  Mark  drew  his  head  over 
toward  himself  and  laid  it  against  his  own 
breast.  Thus  the  two  rested.  Mark  slept  at 
intervals ;  Jakey,  with  all  the  soundness  of 
healthy,  irresponsible  boyhood. 

The  moon  was  setting,  and  Mark  caught  a 
glimpse  of  it  between  the  lower  branches  of 
the  trees  and  the  horizon.  When  he  cast  his 
eyes  upward  he  saw  the  stars.  He  fell  to  mus 
ing  upon  his  singular  position.  He  remem 
bered  that  far  to  the  north  of  him  Confederate 
cavalrymen  were  dashing  hither  and  thither, 
attacking  bridges,  capturing  the  guards,  threat 
ening  Union  pickets,  and  in  every  way  harass 
ing  the  army  of  the  Ohio.  Yet  here  he  was 
beyond  the  Union  front,  in  a  region  which  be 
longed  to  no  one  save  the  outlaw  guerillas — 
ruled  neither  by  the  United  States  nor  the 
Confederacy— with  all  silent  and  peaceful  about 


30  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

him.     An  innocent  face,  careless  of  danger,  lay  . 
on  his  breast.     The  leaves  of  the  trees  hung 
listlessly  above  him. 

Then  that  blue  vault  above !  Its  serenity 
seemed  to  mock  the  puny  contests  upon  a 
world  which,  with  all  its  campaigns  and  battles, 
was  but  a  grain  of  sand  among  the  heavenly 
hosts.  Its  heaviest  artillery  could  not  be 
heard  at  the  nearest  planet.  Its  marshaled 
armies  could  not  be  seen.  Save  for  the  re 
flected  light  of  the  sun  it  would  revolve  in 
space,  unknown  by  those  on  even  the  nearest 
planets.  And  so  musing  he  fell  asleep. 

At  the  first  sign  of  dawn  Mark  waked  Jakey, 
and  after  they  had  both  thrown  the  refreshing 
water  of  the  rivulet  over  their  heads  they 
started  in  search  of  a  house  at  which  they 
designed  to  "  happen  in '  at  breakfast  time. 
Fortunately  they  soon  found  such  a  place. 
Turning  into  the  gate  at  the  first  farm-house, 
a  farmer's  wife  received  them  kindly,  and  gave 
them  what  for  that  time  and  country  was  a 
palatable  meal. 

Refreshed  by  their  breakfast  they  walked 
on.  Various  people — countrymen,  negroes, 
Confederate  soldiers,  and  occasionally  a  squad 
ron  of  cavalry — passed  them  on  the  road,  but 
they  were  not  questioned  or  interfered  with 
by  any  one.  Occasionally  they  would  ask  the 


CHATTANOOGA.  31 

road,  but  upon  receiving  the  necessary  informa 
tion,  and  after  making  a  few  commonplace  re 
marks,  would  go  on.  At  noon  they  turned 
aside  from  the  pike  in  among  the  trees  and  ate 
what  was  left  of  their  snack. 

About  sunset  they  reached  a  large  place  set 
back  off  to  the  left  of  the  road.  The  premises 
were  more  imposing  than  any  they  had  yet 
passed,  and  they  judged  by  it  that  they  were  in 
the  environs  of  Chattanooga.  The  house  was 
a  large,  square,  old-fashioned  building,  with  a 
very  high  basement.  It  had  two  stories,  with 
a  peak  roof  in  which  were  dormer  windows. 
A  gallery  or  veranda  extended  across  the  front 
both  above  and  below.  Some  large  trees  were 
scattered  about  the  yard.  In  the  rear  were 
the  negro  quarters  and  the  barn. 

Mark  determined  to  ask  for  food  and  shelter 
for  the  night  here.  Turning  into  the  gate,  he 
followed  a  straight  road  leading  for  perhaps  a 
hundred  yards  to  the  house.  A  young  girl 
robed  in  a  white  muslin  dress,  of  a  very  simple 
pattern,  and  a  pink  sash,  stood  on  the  veranda 
watching  them  as  they  came  on.  When  they 
reached  the  steps  leading  up  to  where  she 
stood,  Mark  saw  a  pair  of  black  eyes  looking 
at  him,  which,  conscious  of  the  deception  he 
was  about  to  practice,  seemed  to  read  him 
through  and  through.  Indeed  he  was  suffi- 


32  CHATTANOOGA. 

ciently  confused  to  take  off  his  hat  to  the  girl 
with  all  the  grace  and  manner  of  a  polished 
gentleman. 

"  If  you  please,  ma'm,"  he  said,  assuming  the 
dialect  of  a  countryman,  "  me  'n  my  leetle 
brother's  goen  ter  Chattenoogy.  My  brother 
he's  walked  a  right  smart  show  fur  sech  a 
younker.  Could  y1  give  us  some  supper  and 
a  place  ter  sleep  all  night?" 

"You  can  come  up  here  and  sit  down,  and 
I'll  see." 

"  What  a  musical  voice,"  thought  Mark. 

The  travelers  went  up  on  to  the  veranda  and 
sat  on  some  wooden  benches  ranged  along  the 
rail. 

"Have  you  come  far?"  asked  the  girl,  who 
regarded  them  with  evident  curiosity. 

"  From  our  leetle  farm  on  the  Sequatchie." 

"Your  brother  does  look  tired.  Are  you 
hungry,  little  boy?" 

"  Is  it  a  gitten  dark?" 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  said  surprised.  "  What  has 
that  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  I'm  hungry  jist  as  sartin,"  and  Jakey's 
little  eyes  glistened  at  the  thought  of  a  hot 
supper. 

The  young  lady  laughed  and  went  into  the 
house. 

"Mamma,  there's  a  young  countryman  and 


CHA  TTAtfOOGA.  33 

his  little  brother  out  on  the  gallery ;  they 
want  some  supper  and  a  bed  for  the  night." 

An  elderly  lady,  with  two  white  puff  curls  on 
either  side  of  her  face,  looked  up  from  a  book 
she  was  reading.  Her  appearance  was  digni 
fied  and  refined. 

"  The  young  man  looks  quite  like  a  gentle 
man,  if  he  is  a  countryman,"  added  the 
daughter. 

"  We  must  be  very  cautious,  Laura ;  you 
know  how  we  are  situated  ;  your  father  and 
brother  away,  and  no  man  in  the  house ;  we 
can't  let  strangers  sleep  here.  But  they  may 
have  something  to  eat  and  peihaps  it  might  do 
to  let  them  sleep  in  the  barn  if  they  look  right." 

"  Where  shall  they  have  their  supper?" 

"  Have  it  put  on  the  hall  table  downstairs." 

The  daughter  paused  a  moment  and  thought. 

"Do you  know,  mamma,  I  can't  exactly  feel 
satisfied  to  put  the  elder  brother  in  a  place 
given  up  to  the  servants." 

"  What  nonsense,  Laura !  We  are  taking  a 
great  risk  to  let  them  into  the  house  at  all. 
Heaven  grant  that  the  horses  are  not  all  taken 
before  morning.  The  man  may  be  in  league 
with  a  band  of  guerrillas,  for  all  we  know." 

The  daughter  withdrew,  for  the  moment 
quite  impressed  with  her  mother's  prudence. 
As  she  stepped  out  on  the  veranda,  Mark  rose 


34  CHATTANOOGA. 

respectfully,  and  stood  looking  into  her  black 
eyes  with  his  blue  ones.  Her  mother's  caution 
fled  away  before  that  honest  countenance. 

"  You  can  have  some  supper,"  she  said,  "  if 
you  care  to  eat  in  the  lower  hall ;  and  you  can 
sleep — you — you  can  sleep " 

Mark  was  bowing  his  thanks. 

"Would  you  mind  sleeping  in ?"  she 

paused  again. 

"  The  barn  ?     Certainly  not." 

"  You  know  these  are  troublous  times,"  she 
said  apologetically,  "  and  we  are  alone.  I 
mean  we  haven't  many  men  in  the  house,"  she 
quickly  added,  conscious  of  having  made  known 
the  household's  weakness  to  a  stranger. 

Mark  smiled.  The  young  lady  was  looking 
at  him  as  he  did  so,  and  she  thought  he  had  a 
very  charming  smile. 

"  We  will  sleep  anywhere  you  choose  to  put 
us.  Least-a-ways  we  ain't  purticular." 

The  first  sentence  was  spoken  in  his  natural 
way;  the  second  in  dialect.  Mark's  manner 
of  speaking  to  her  was  singularly  mixed. 

"  I  suppose  your  men  are  fighting  our  bat 
tles,"  he  remarked,  to  relieve  an  awkward 
pause. 

"  Papa  is  away." 

"  Have  you  no  brothers?" 

"Yes,  one;  he  is  fighting  for  the  Confederacy." 


CHA  TTANOOCA.  3$ 

"  And  your  father?  is  he  at  the  war?  " 

"  No  ;  papa  does  not  care  much  about  the 
war." 

"  Perhaps  he's  a  Union  man." 

"  Well,  yes.     Papa  is  Union." 

Mark  concluded  to  hazard  a  surmise.  "Was 
he  driven  out  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  exactly,"  she  said,  with  a  frown. 
"  He's  gone  North,  though." 

She  did  not  like  to  tell  the  whole  story  to  a 
stranger,  who  was  gradually  getting  a  good 
deal  of  information.  Her  father  had  come  to 
Chattanooga  from  the  North  years  before, 
where  he  had  married  a  Southern  woman. 
After  the  opening  of  the  war,  on  account  of 
his  pronounced  Union  sentiments,  he  had  been 
warned  several  times  to  leave,  and  his  family 
were  much  relieved  when  he  was  well  away 
from  the  danger  that  threatened  him. 

"  You  are  divided,"  said  Mark,  "  as  we  are. 
Now,  my  leetle  brother  hyar's  a  Union  boy. 
I'm  Confed'rate." 

There  was  a  pause,  and  the  girl,  remarking 
that  she  would  see  about  their  supper,  turned 
and  went  into  the  house. 

There  was  a  delay  in  getting  the  meal  ready. 
Perhaps  the  negro  cook  demurred  at  cooking 
for  "  poor  white  trash  ";  at  any  rate,  it  was 
quite  dark  before  supper  was  announced.  The 


36  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

mistress  of  the  house  came  out,  and  as  Mark 
saw  her  eyeing  them  both,  he  knew  that  she 
came  to  have  a  look  at  them.  Fortunately  for 
him,  the  darkness  prevented  her  getting  a 
good  view  of  him.  Mark  at  once  commenced 
to  probe  a  mother's  heart  by  dwelling  on  the 
tired  condition  of  little  Jakey,  and  kept  it  up 
till  the  lady  was  quite  unwilling  to  send  the 
boy  to  sleep  in  the  barn.  She  inwardly  re 
solved  that  the  child  should  have  a  comfort 
able  bed. 

Jakey  ate  a  hearty  supper — the  heartier  for 
the  delay — and  the  two  wayfarers  were  shown 
upstairs  to  a  large  room  with  a  big  bed  in  it. 
A  few  sticks  were  lighted  on  the  hearth  to  dry 
the  dampness,  for  the  room  had  been  long 
unused,  and  there  was  a  general  air  of  comfort. 
Jakey,  who  had  never  seen  such  luxury,  rolled 
his  little  eyes  about  and  wondered.  But  he 
was  too  tired  to  waste  much  time  in  admira 
tion.  He  was  soon  in  bed  and  asleep. 


IV. 

SLACK,   THE   FARMER'S  SON. 

MARK  took  his  pipe  and  went  down  to  the 
yard  to  have  a  smoke.  Going  back  to 
the  barn,  he  entered  into  conversation  with  an 
old  darky  sitting  on  a  barrel  by  the  stable 
door,  and  evidently  master  of  the  horse. 

"  Fine  night,  uncle." 

"  Yas,  bery  fine  night,  sah." 

"That's  not  very  good  tobacco  you're  smok 
ing,  uncle.  You'd  better  take  some  o'  this 
hyar." 

"Thank  y',  sah." 

"  Do  you  hear  any  news,  uncle ?  " 

"  Dan'l.  My  name's  Dan'l,  sah.  No,  sah  ;  I 
don*  git  no  news  'cept  de  sodgers  is  getting 
mighty  thick  at  Chattenoogy." 

"  Do  you  know  how  many  are  there  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  'bout  free  hundred  thousand." 

Mark  laughed. 

"  You're  not  much  at  figures,"  he  said. 

"  No,  sah  ;  I  ain't  got  no  larnen." 

"  Uncle,  I  shan't  want  anything  of  you  while 
I'm  hyar,  but  you  must  have  somep'n  to 

37 


38  CHATTANOOGA. 

remember  me  by  all  the  same,"  and  Mark  put  a 
new  crisp  dollar  greenback  in  the  old  man's  hand. 

"  Bress  de  Lo'd  ;  you  is  de  fines'  specermon 
ob  a  po'  white  genleman  I  eber  had  de  facila- 
tude  ob  meeten." 

"Well,  don't  spoil  it  all  by  tellen  tother 
hands.  Keep  it  to  yourself." 

"  Sho  nuff.     I  ain't  gvvine  to  tell  nobody." 

Mark  left  Uncle  Daniel  chuckling  on  his 
barrel,  and  strolled  about  the  grounds.  Pres 
ently  he  found  himself  walking  near  the  front 
of  the  house.  The  mother  and  daughter  sat 
on  the  veranda  in  the  moonlight.  Presently 
the  daughter  came  down  the  steps  and  ad 
vanced  to  where  Mark  was  loitering. 

"  Mamma  says  that  if  you  like  you  may — she 
would  be  pleased  to  have  you  come  up  and  sit 
on  the  veranda." 

"  Thank  you  !  "  Mark  was  about  to  lift  his 
hat  in  his  usual  deferential  manner,  but  sud 
denly  remembered  that  he  was  not  supposed  to 
be  a  gentleman.  He  followed  the  girl  up  on  to 
the  veranda,  and  she  placed  a  seat  for  him 
near  where  they  were  sitting. 

"  Your  brother  is  a  good  deal  younger  than 
you,"  said  the  mother,  when  Mark  was  seated. 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'm  ;  he  is  ten  years  younger." 

"  You  don't  resemble  each  other  at  all.  You 
are  light  and  he  is  dark." 


CHJLTTJLXOOGA.  .  : 

"So  we  don't.  Jakey's  my  stepbrother, 
you  know." 

"  You  didn't  tell  us  that,"  remarked  the  lady. 

"  You're  very  thoughtful  of  him,"  said  Mi >> 
Laura,  "considering  he  is  only  your  step 
brother." 

"Wai,  ma'm.  I'm  very  fond  of  him  all  the 
same." 

"  He  seems  to  be  a  peculiar  child." 

"Yas,  Jakey  he  is  peculiar;  very  peculiar, 
ma'm." 

"  You  haven't  told  us  your  name  yet,"  said 
the  mother. 

u  Slack.      I'm  Farmer  Slack's  son." 

"  How  many  field  hands  does  your  father 
own  ?  " 

"  Father,  he  don't  own  no  niggers  at  all. 
We're  jest  only  poor  whites," 

*'  You're  very  frank  about  it,"  said  Laura. 

"Wai,  there  ain't  no  use  maken  purten- 
tions." 

"  And  you  go  to  Chattanooga  to-morrow  ?  " 
asked  the  mother. 

"  Yas,  ma'm ;  I  caUate  ter  do  some  traden 
thar." 

"  And  you  will  return  this  \\ 

"  I  reckon  I'll  be  along  hyar  in  a  few  days." 

The  mother  continued  the  pumping  process 
fora  while,  but  whether  she  made  no  progress, 


40  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

or  whether  Mark  succeeded  in  establishing 
himself  in  her  confidence,  she  arose,  and  walked 
with  all  the  stateliness  of  a  Southern  high-born 
matron  into  the  house.  There  she  resumed 
the  book  she  had  been  reading  earlier  in  the 
evening. 

Mark  had  kept  up  his  assumed  character  very 
well  during  her  presence.  Now  that  he  was 
left  alone  with  the  daughter,  he  was  put  to  a 
much  severer  test.  The  girl  had  something  of 
the  stateliness  of  her  mother,  as  that  stateliness 
had  appeared  in  her  mother's  youth.  Mark 
had  been  so  used  from  his  childhood  to  meet  a 
refined  bearing  with  one  equally  refined  that 
he  found  it  difficult  to  avoid  doing  so  now. 

"  Don't  you  love  to  look  at  the  stars,  Mr. 
Slack  ?  "  asked  the  young  lady. 

"  Wai  yes,  Miss " 

"  My  name  is  Laura  Fain." 

"  I  hev  always  been  fond  o'  the  science  of 
He  paused  ;  he  suddenly  remembered 


that  poor  "  white  trash "  were  not  usually 
versed  in  any  of  the  sciences. 

"  Astronomy?  "  she  supplied. 

"  Wai,  yas." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  learn  astronomy  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  nothen  'bout  it,"  he  said 
quickly.  "  I  hearn  a  man  at  Jasper  talken  onct. 
He  said  a  heap  o'  quar  things." 


CHATTANOOGA.  4* 

"What  bright  star  is  that?"  pointing. 

"Venus,  I  reckon." 

"I  wonder  how  far  it  is  from  us?"  she  said 
musingly. 

"Venus?  why  Venus  is  sixty-eight  millions 
of  miles,  I  reckon." 

"  I  happen  to  know  that's  a  correct  answer.  " 

Mark  suddenly  became  conscious  of  having 
forgotten  himself.  He  recollected  his  critical 
position  and  resolved  to  proceed  with  greater 
care. 

"  How  far  is  the  moon  ?  "  asked  Miss  Fain. 

"  The  moon's  a  hundred  million  miles,  I 
reckon." 

"  Oh,  no.  You're  far  out  of  the  way  there. 
It's  only  about  two  hundred  and  forty  thou 
sand  miles." 

"  Wai,  now ! "  exclaimed  Mark,  in  well 
feigned  surprise. 

She  looked  searchingly  at  him,  but  Mark 
looked  as  if  he  had  simply  received  an  interest 
ing  piece  of  information. 

"  Do  you  like  poetry?"  she  asked,  changing 
the  subject. 

"  Some  'at." 

"  My  favorite  poet  is  Tennyson.  Is  he 
yours,  too?" 

This  was  dangerous  ground  for  Mark.  He 
had  a  special  fondness  for  poetry  and  was 


42  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

more  likely  to  betray  himself  on  this  than  on 
any  other  subject. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  love  Shelley  best." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Slack  !  how  can  you  understand 
Shelley?  I  can't." 

"  Wai,  he  is  kinder  obscure  like." 

"Do  you  remember  any  of  his  poems?  If 
you  do  I  would  like  to  hear  you  repeat  it." 

"  Wai,  I  mought  give  you  a  few  lines  of  the 
'  Ode  to  the  Spirit  o'  Nature.'  " 

"  Please  do." 

Mark  would  have  done  well  to  let  the  "  Ode 
to  the  Spirit  of  Nature "  alone ;  but  with  a 
beautiful  girl  beside  him,  the  half  moon  sink 
ing  in  the  west,  and  all  nature  in  repose,  he 
momentarily  forgot  his  assumed  character  en 
tirely.  He  began,  intending  to  give  only  a 
few  lines  and  not  to  forget  his  dialect ;  but  the 
spirit  of  nature  was  in  him  as  well  as  in  the 
poem,  and  by  the  time  he  had  recited  a  few 
lines  he  was  as  oblivious  to  the  character  of 
Slack  the  farmer's  son,  as  if  he  had  been  the 
poet  himself.  Suddenly  he  awoke  to  the  con 
sciousness  of  having  given  the  whole  poem  in 
his  natural  tone,  and  with  his  ordinary  ac 
cent. 

"  Mr.  Slack,"  said  his  listener,  when  he  had 
finished,  "  did  you  learn  that  from  a  man  in 
Jasper  ?  " 


CHA  TTA NOOGA .  43 

"  No — no — I — wal,"  he  stammered,  "  I  read  it 
in  a  book." 

He  stole  a  glance  at  his  companion,  but 
failed  to  detect  any  unusual  expression  on  her 
face.  He  took  courage. 

"  What  do  you  raise  on  your  plantation  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Oh,  we  put  in  some  potatoes  and  corn  and 
straw  this  year." 

"Straw?" 

"  No,  no  ;  not  straw."  Mark  was  as  little 
conversant  with  the  farmer's  art  as  he  was 
familiar  with  the  poets.  "  I  mean  hay." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  and  smiled. 

"  The  wheat  was  all  gotten  in  early  this  sum 
mer,  I  am  told,"  she  remarked  casually. 

"  Yas,  we  got  in  ourn  early.  We  jest  finished 
up  before  I  kem  away." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Slack  !  " 

Mark  knew  that  he  had  blundered  again. 

"Wheat  is  gathered  in  July,"  she  informed 
the  young  farmer. 

"  I  mean  the  corn,"  he  said  wildly. 

"  The  corn  comes  later.     It  is  ripening  now." 

Mark  felt  it  was  all  up  with  him  so  far  as  de 
ceiving  Miss  Fain  as  to  his  being  a  farmer,  but 
he  struck  out  boldly  to  undo  some  of  the  mis 
chief  : 

"  Wal,  you  see,  Miss  Fain,  to  tell  the  whole 


44  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

truth,  dad  he  don't  reckon  much  on  my  farmen. 
He  says  I  aughter  be  a  perfessor  or  somep'n 
o*  that  sort." 

"  A  gentleman,  for  instance." 

Mark  made  no 'reply.  For  the  first  time  he 
detected  irony  in  her  tone. 

"  Mr.  Slack — if  that  is  really  your  name, 
which  I  don't  believe — you  are  certainly  not 
very  complimentary  to  my  sense  of  perception." 

"  How  so?  " 

"  In  trying  to  make  me  think  you  are  not  an 
educated  gentleman." 

Mark  saw  the  futility  of  keeping  up  the 
sham  with  Miss  Laura  Fain  any  longer.  He 
resolved  to  give  her  so  much  of  his  confidence 
as  was  necessary  to  keep  her  from  betraying 
him,  if  indeed  he  could  do  so  at  all.  His  man 
ner  and  his  tone  changed  in  a  twinkling. 

"  I  will  be  frank  with  you.  I  am  not  what  I 
have  pretended.  But  I  am  not  here  to  injure 
you  or  your?." 

"Who  arc  you?"  She  spoke  with  a  cer 
tain  severity  that  she  had  not  shown  before. 

"I  cannot  tell  you.    My  secret  is  not  my  own." 

"  Are  you  a  Union  man  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"A  Northerner?" 

"  Yes ;  but  let  that  suffice.  You  would  re 
gret  it  if  I  should  confide  anything  more  to 


CHATTANOOGA.  45 

you.  Yet  from  this  brief  interview  I  have 
learned  to  trust  you  sufficiently  to  place  my 
life  in  your  keeping." 

She  thought  a  moment.  A  faint  shudder 
passed  over  her. 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  your  secret." 

"  Will  you  tell  your  mother  what  you  have 
discovered?  "  asked  Mark  anxiously. 

"  Not  for  worlds." 

"You  suspect —  He  paused  and  looked 

at  her  inquiringly. 

"  Yes,  yes.  Don't  say  any  more.  Don't 
breathe  another  word.  Only  go  away  from 
here  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  shall  go  to-morrow  morning.  I  shall 
always  hold  you  in  grateful  remembrance. 
You  are  a  splendid — a  lovely  woman.  I  owe 
you " 

"  Yes,  yes  ;  go  ;  go  early." 

She  rose  and  went  into  the  house.  In  a  few 
minutes  a  colored  boy  came  out  and  told  Mark 
that  he  would  show  him  to  his  room.  As  Mark 
had  been  there  before,  he  knew  this  meant  that 
he  was  expected  to  retire  for  the  night. 

As  he  went  by  the  parlor  he  glanced  in.  The 
mother  sat  by  a  lamp  on  a  "  center  table  "  read 
ing.  Miss  Pain's  face  was  also  bent  over  a 
book.  It  was  white  as  the  margin  of  the  page 
she  pretended  to  read. 


V. 

GLORIOUS   PERFIDY. 

WHEN  Mark  went  downstairs  the  next 
morning,  followed  by  Jakey,  they  were 
invited  into  the  breakfast  room.  Laura  Fain 
was  there,  but  her  mother  was  not.  Mark 
looked  at  Laura,  but  she  avoided  his  gaze. 
He  asked  after  her  mother. 

"  Mamma  scarcely  ever  gets  up  to  break 
fast,"  she  said,  as  she  poured  out  a  substitute 
for  coffee. 

During  the  meal  she  said  but  little,  and  that 
was  only  on  commonplace  subjects.  She 
seemed  to  have  more  on  her  mind  than  the 
soldier  who  was  taking  his  life  in  his  hands, 
and  studiously  avoided  looking  at  him  at  all. 

Jakey  ate  heartily.  Mark  noticed  him  eat 
ing  with  his  knife,  and  otherwise  displaying 
his  humble  origin,  while  he  was  himself  eating 
like  a  gentleman.  He  thought  that  it  was 
lucky  Mrs.  Fain  was  not  at  the  table. 

After  breakfast  Mark  followed  his  hostess 
through  a  door  opening  into  a  sitting-room  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  hall  from  the  parlor. 

"  Miss  Fain,"  he  said,  "  I  know  too  well  the 


CHATTANOOGA.  47 

station  of  your  family  and  Southern  customs 
not  to  accept  as  a  gift  the  hospitality  you  have 
afforded.  I  can  only  express  my  indebtedness, 
and  the  hope  that  some  day  the  war  may  be 
over  and  I  can  come  down  here  and  show  my 
gratitude  for  something  of  far  more  moment  to 
me  than  a  night's  lodging." 

He  paused  and  then  added  : 

"  May  I  ask  a  question?  Are  you  a  Union 
or  a  Confederate  girl  ?  " 

"  Confederate." 

Mark  looked  at  her  uneasily. 

"  I  inferred  from  what  you  said  last  night 
that  you  will  not  betray  me." 

"I  will  not." 

"But  you  think  you  ought  to." 

"  I  do." 

Mark  stood  gazing  at  her.  She  was  looking 
out  of  the  window  with  a  troubled  expression. 

"Miss  Fain,"  he  said,  "  you  may  be  doing 
wrong ;  you  may  be  doing  right.  At  any  rate 
you  are  acting  the  part  of  a  woman,  and  this 
act  makes  you  in  my  eyes  the  loveliest  woman 
that  lives." 

The  words  were  scarcely  spoken  when  the 
muscles  of  the  girl's  face  contracted  into  an  ex 
pression  of  horror.  Mark  could  not  understand 
why  his  speech  had  so  affected  her.  The  nat 
ural  uncertainty  of  his  position  impelled  him 


48  CHATTANOOGA. 

to  look  about  him  for  the  cause.  Glancing 
out  of  the  front  window  he  saw  an  officer  in 
gray  uniform  on  horseback  in  the  act  of  reach 
ing  down  to  open  the  gate. 

"Come!  quick!"  she  said,  seizing  his  arm. 
"  No,  no  !  Mamma!  She  doesn't  know.  Oh, 
what  shall  we  do  ?  " 

Mark  took  her  by  the  hand  and  spoke  to  her 
coolly  but  quickly.  "  Call  Jakey  for  me  and  we 
will  both  go  downstairs  and  from  there  to  the 
barn.  We  can  then  go  out  without  meeting 
this  officer,  for  he  is  doubtless  coming  in.  There 
is  no  especial  danger.  We  shall  meet  plenty 
of  soldiers  before  we  return." 

She  flew  out  of  the  room  to  find  Jakey. 
While  she  was  gone  Mark  watched  the  ap 
proaching  horseman.  He  was  a  fine  specimen 
of  a  Southern  man  ;  tall  and  slender,  with  long 
black  hair,  mustache  and  goatee,  and  a  fine 
black  eye.  He  looked,  as  he  came  riding  up 
the  roadway,  the  impersonation  of  the  South 
ern  gentleman. 

Before  he  had  dismounted,  Mark  and  Jakey 
were  on  their  way  to  the  barn. 

Laura  Fain  opened  the  front  door  just  as  the 
officer  was  coming  up  the  steps. 

"  Why,  Cameron  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  how  did 
you  get  away  ?  I  thought  you  told  me  you 
were  to  be  officer  of  the  guard  to-day." 


CffA  TTANOOGA.  49 

"  I  persuaded  my  friend  the  adjutant  to  de 
tail  another  man." 

"  Was  there  a  special  reason  ?  " 

"Certainly.  I  positively  couldn't  stand  it 
another  day  not  to  see  you.  Besides,  we  are 
momentarily  expecting  orders  to  cross  to  this 
side  of  the  river." 

"  But  you  will  be  nearer  to  us  then,  won't 
you  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  not.  Once  on  this  side  we'll 
not  stop  nearer  than  Dallas  or  Foe's.  We  may 
join  Colonel  Forrest  near  Sparta,  or  wherever 
he  may  be,  doubtless  somewhere  in  the  enemy's 
rear.  He  seldom  troubles  the  Yankees  in  front. 
But  you  are  not  listening,  my  darling  ;  and  you 
are  pale  ;  you  are  not  ill  ?  " 

"Certainly  not." 

"You  are  sorry  that  I  came?" 

"Why,  Cameron;  what  do  you  mean?  You 
know  I  always  want  you  to  come." 

She  led  the  way  into  the  sitting-room  from 
which  Mark  had  disappeared  but  a  minute  be 
fore — a  minute  is  a  long  while  sometimes ; — 
Mrs.  Fain  entered  and  received  the  guest 
most  graciously. 

Captain  Cameron  Fitz  Hugh  was  a  young 
Virginian,  a  graduate  of  the  University  of  Vir 
ginia  law  school,  the  son  of  wealthy  parents, 
whose  acres  and  negroes  were  numbered  by 


5<>  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

thousands.  He  had  known  the  Fains  before 
the  war,  Mrs.  Fain  having  been  born  and  reared 
in  the  Old  Dominion.  During  a  visit  of  Laura 
to  his  people,  shortly  before  the  breaking  out 
of  hostilities,  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  her, 
had  proposed  and  was  accepted.  Both  families 
being  agreeable,  the  two  were  engaged  to  be 
married. 

"This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,  Captain" 
said  Mrs.  Fain. 

"  I  did  not  suppose  I  could  get  away  to 
day." 

"  Everything  is  unexpected  in  these  times. 
We  never  know  who  is  coming  to  us.  Last 
night  I  slept  uneasily  for  fear  that  we  harbored 
a  guerrilla  in  the  house." 

"  How  is  that  ?  "  asked  Captain  Fitz  Hugh. 

"  Where  are  the  strangers,  Laura?  " 

"  I  think  they  are  gone,  mamma." 

"  A  countryman  and  his  little  brother,"  said 
Mrs.  Fain  to  the  captain.  "  Laura  thought 
him  quite  a  gentleman  for  one  so  poorly 
dressed." 

"  But  I  changed  my  mind,  mamma,"  said 
Laura  quickly. 

"And  what  was  the  occasion  of  so  sudden  a 
bouleversement  ?  "  asked  the  captain. 

"Why — why,  when  we  were  sitting  on  the 
veranda  after  you  went  in,  mamma " 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  5 1 

"  Sitting  on  the  veranda  with  a  country 
man  !  "  exclaimed  the  lover. 

"Well,  yes;  mamma  said  to  invite  him  up. 
But  I  was  going  to  say,"  Laura's  inventive 
powers  had  gained  time  to  act,  by  the  interrup 
tion,  "  I  found  that  he  was  only  an  ignorant 
farmer  after  all,  for  I  asked  him  how  far  the 
moon  was,  and  he  said  he  reckoned  it  was  a  hun 
dred  million  miles." 

"  That  doesn't  prove  anything  "  Fitz  Hugh 
remarked.  "  I  don't  believe  there's  an  officer 
in  my  regiment  knows  that.  But  it  becomes 
us  to  be  very  careful :  the  commanding  general 
has  made  it  known  unofficially  through  his 
staff  officers  that  he  is  especially  desirous  of 
concealing  his  intentions.  One  spy  penetra 
ting  for  even  a  day  at  Chattanooga  might 
frustrate  all  his  plans.  If  the  enemy  knew 
that  we  are  concentrating  there,  and  how  weak 
we  are  there  at  present,  he  would,  or  at  least  he 
should,  come  down  with  a  large  force  and 
drive  us  south." 

A  troubled  expression  crossed  Laura's  face. 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Mrs.  Fain.  "  I  was  not 
aware  of  that.  Suppose  the  young  man  was  a 
spy." 

"  Cameron,"  said  Laura,  "  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
talk  so  to  mamma.  She  will  be  suspicious  of 
every  poor  beggar  that  asks  a  crust.  The 


S2  CHATTANOOGA. 

man's  name  was  Slack.  There  are  plenty  of 
Slacks  among  the  poor  whites  about  here.  I 
have  a  sick  family  of  that  name  on  my  hands 
now  not  a  mile  up  the  road." 

"Has  the  fellow  gone?"  asked  Fitz  Hugh. 
"  I  think  I  would  better  see  him." 

"  Gone  ?  of  course  he's  gone,"  said  Laura, 
with  a  heaving  bosom. 

"  Where  did  he  say  he  was  going  ?  " 

"  To  Chattanooga,"  said  Mrs.  Fain. 

"  I'll  mount  and  follow  him.  I  can  easily 
overtake  him  on  horseback." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Laura  with  a  pout ;  "you 
have  kept  away  from  me  for  a  week,  and  now 
you  are  going  as  soon  as  you've  come." 

"  But,  my  darling,  would  you  have  me " 

"  I  would  have  you  stay  where  you  are : 
and " 

Mrs.  Fain,  seeing  that  some  cooing  was 
coming,  wisely  withdrew. 

"And  what,  sweetheart?" 

"  Tell  me  what  I  love  to  hear,"  she  said 
softly. 

"  I've  told  you  that  so  often  you  should  cer 
tainly  be  tired  of  it  by  this  time." 

Fitz  Hugh  looked  inquiringly  into  her  face 
as  he  smoothed  back  her  hair.  He  was  used 
to  these  requests  to  repeat  his  assurances  of 
affection,  but  there  was  a  nervous  something 


CHA  TTA  NOOGA .  5  3 

about  his  fiancdc  this  morning  that  puzzled 
him. 

His  back  was  toward  the  window,  while  she 
was  facing  it.  Suddenly  she  clasped  her  arms 
tightly  around  him. 

"  Now  go  if  you  can,"  she  said,  affecting  a 
playful  tone. 

"  Why,  Laura  !  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  he 
asked,  astonished. 

"You  don't  love  me,"  she  whined. 

"  Love  you,  pet !    You  know  I  do." 

"  Then  why  do  you  act  so  ?  " 

"Act  how?" 

"  You  never  come  any  more  but  you  want  to 
go  right  away." 

"  But,  sweetheart," — a  half  dozen  kisses  for 
exclamation  points, — "  I  only  intend  being  gone 
a  little  while." 

"  If  you  once  start  out  to  follow  somebody 
you  don't  know  anything  about,  you'll  be  gone 
all  day,  and  then  you'll  be  ordered  away,  and 
may  be  I'll  never  see  you  any  more." 

Never  was  a  lover  more  charmed  at  such 
evidence  of  woman's  affection,  and  never  had 
this  lover  less  cause  to  be  charmed  at  the  evi 
dence  of  his  hold  upon  Laura  Fain.  Had 
Captain  Fitz  Hugh  seen  what  Laura  Fain  saw 
from  the  moment  she  put  her  arms  around 
him  and  held  his  back  to  the  window, — Mark 


54  CHATTANOOGA. 

and  Jakey  going  down  the  walk  to  the  gate, — 

he  would  have  exclaimed  : 

"  Oh,  woman,  thy  name  is  perfidy !  " 

"  Oh,  woman,"  the  departing  soldier  would 

have  responded,  "  thy  name  is  indeed  perfidy  ; 

but  how  glorious  thy  perfidy  !  " 


VI. 

IN  THE  ENEMY'S  LINES. 

"  T  AKEY,"  said  Mark,  as  they  passed  behind 

J  trees  that  hid  them  from  the  house.  "  I 
don't  like  that  officer  coming  to  the  Fain  plan 
tation  just  at  this  time.  There'll  surely  be 
some  mention  of  us,  and  it  is  possible  he  may 
want  to  have  a  look  at  us.  You  know,  Jakey, 
we're  only  poor,  modest  people,  and  don't 
want  to  be  stared  at." 

"  We  ain't  got  our  store  clothes  on,  and 
don't  want  ter  make  no  acquaintances,"  Jakey 
observed  solemnlyc 

Mark  had  noticed  Laura  Pain's  agitation 
when  she  caught  sight  of  the  officer  at  the 
gate,  and  knew  there  was  good  reason  for  it. 
He  did  not  fear  that  she  would  betray  him  un 
intentionally,  but  that  she  might  be  led  to  do 
so  from  her  very  anxiety  to  keep  his  secret. 

"  The  first  chance  we  get,  Jakey,  we'll  take 
to  the  woods.  We  told  them  we  were  going 
to  Chattanooga,  and  if  this  officer  takes  it  into 
his  aristocratic  head  to  escort  us  with  true 
Southern  politeness  a  part  of  the  way,  he'll 
expect  to  find  us  on  the  Chattanooga  pike." 

55 


56  CHA  J^TANOOGA. 

"  'N  'twouldn't  be  perlite  fur  ter  git  in  his  way." 

They  had  gone  but  a  trifling  distance  when 
they  come  to  a  creek  flowing — as  a  wayfarer 
they  met  told  them — through  Moccasin  Gap. 
The  road  crossed  it  by  something  betwixt  a 
bridge  and  a  culvert.  Mark  led  the  way  from 
the  road  up  the  creek,  and  began  to  climb  the 
hills,  on  which  there  was  sufficient  growth  of 
timber  to  afford  concealment.  For  an  hour 
he  trudged  along  with  Jakey  beside  him.  He 
tried  to  get  the  boy  to  give  him  his  hand  to 
help  him  along,  but  Jakey  demurred  indig 
nantly,  and  kept  his  sturdy  little  legs  so  well 
at  work  that  he  never  once  fell  behind  his  com 
panion. 

At  last  they  came  to  a  hut  occupied  by  an 
old  negro. 

"  Good-morning,  uncle !  "  said  Mark. 

"  Mornen,  sah." 

"  Hev  y'  seen  anything  of  a  colored  boy 
'bout  eighteen  years  old  go  by  hyar  this 
mornen  ?  " 

"  No,  sah." 

"  He's  my  boy  Sam,  and  I'm  a  hunten  him. 
He  run  away  last  night.  He'll  git  a  hundred 
ef  I  ketch  him." 

"  I  ain't  saw  him,  sah,  'n  I  tell  y'  what, 
marstr,  ef  I  had  saw  him  I  wouldn't  inform  y' 
ob  de  fac." 


CHA  TTA  NOOGA .  5  7 

"That's  the  way  with  you  niggers,  since  the 
Yankees  turned  your  heads.  But  it  won't  last 
long.  Our  boys  '11  drive  'em  so  fur  no'th 
pretty  soon  that  you  darkies  '11  hev  to  stop 
runnen  away." 

"  Now  don'  y'  believe  dat  so  sartin." 

"Do  you  really  believe  the  Yanks  can  whip 
us?" 

"  De  Lord  hes  sent  'em  to  tote  his  colored 
people  out  o'  bondage." 

Mark  was  satisfied  with  this  preliminary  ex 
amination  that  he  could  trust  the  old  man. 

"  Uncle,  I'm  no  Secesh.  I'm  a  Union 
man.  I  want  to  stay  with  you  to-day  and 
travel  to-night.  Keep  me  all  day  and  I'll  go 
away  as  soon  as  it  is  dark." 

"  Fo'  de  Lord.  I  knowed  y'  wa'n't  no 
South'n  man  all  de  time." 

"  How?" 

"  Y'  ain't  got  de  South'n  man's  way  o* 
talkin'.  Yo'  did  hit  well  enough,  but  y'  caint 
fool  me." 

"Well,  will  you  keep  us?" 

"  Reckon  I  will." 

"  What's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Randolph's  my  name,  sah.  JefT'son  Ran 
dolph.  My  marstr  said  he  gib  me  a  mighty  big 
name,  but  hit  didn't  do  no  good.  Dey  always 
call  me  notten  but  Jeff." 


5§  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  You're  as  well  off  as  the  President  of  the 
Confederacy  in  that  respect,"  said  Mark.  "  I 
guess  we'll  go  inside." 

"  Yes,  go  in  dar.     Keep  dark." 

Mark  and  Jakey  waited  for  the  day  to  pass, 
and  as  they  had  no  means  of  amusing  them 
selves  it  passed  very  slowly.  Jakey  played 
about  the  creek  for  a  while,  but  both  were  glad 
when  the  darkness  came  and  they  could  get 
away. 

Before  setting  out  on  his  expedition  Mark 
had  carefully  studied  a  map  of  the  region,  pre 
ferring  to  fix  it  in  his  mind  than  to  carry  it 
about  his  person.  Upon  leaving  Jefferson 
Randolph's  hut  he  made  direct  for  the  Tenn 
essee  River.  Once  there,  he  knew  from  his 
remembrance  of  the  map  that  he  was  not  far 
from  Chattanooga,  and  that  between  him  and 
that  place  was  Moccasin  Point,  formed  by  a 
bend,  or  rather  a  loop,  in  the  river,  the  point 
putting  out  southward  for  more  than  two 
miles,  with  a  distance  of  nearly  a  mile  across 
its  neck.  But  he  knew  the  ground  was  high 
on  the  east  shore  of  the  peninsula,  and  he  did 
not  know  the  proper  place  to  strike  inland  and 
cut  off  the  distance  around  the  river's  margin. 
There  was  no  one  near  to  inform  him,  so  he 
kept  on  by  the  river. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  they  reached  a 


CHATTANOOGA.  59 

point  where  the  river  took  a  slight  turn  to  the 
east,  and  about  a  mile  from  the  quick  bend 
around  Moccasin  Point.  Mark  was  anxious  to 
enter  Chattanooga  either  late  at  night  or  soon 
after  daylight,  hoping  to  meet  few  people,  that 
his  entrance  might  not  be  noticed.  He  cast 
his  eye  about  for  some  means  of  crossing  the 
river.  Noticing  a  skiff  moored  just  below  a 
hut  he  surmised  that  the  skiff  belonged  to 
some  one  living  in  the  hut.  Going  to  the  door 
he  knocked. 

"Who's  thar?M 

"  Do  you  uns  own  the  skiff  on  the  river 
below  hyar?  " 

"  Wai,  supposen  I  does  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  cross." 

"What  d'  yer  want  ter  do  thet  fur  at  this 
time  o'  night  ?  " 

"  Father  dyen.  Just  got  word  a  spell 
ago." 

"  What'll  y'  give  ter  get  over?  " 

"  Five  dollars." 

"What  kind  o'  shinplasters?  " 

"  Greenbacks." 

"  Whar  d'  y'  git  'em  ?  " 

"  From  some  people  ez  got  'em  traden'  with 
the  Yankee  sojers  at  Battle  Creek." 

"All  right,  stranger,  but  it's  a  sight  o'  bad 
times  ter  be  called  ter  a  man's  door  at  night. 


60  CHATTANOOGA. 

You  uns  go  down  ter  the  river  'n  I'll  cover  y' 
with  my  gun  tel  I  know  yer  all  right." 

"  I  won't  mind  a  small  thing  like  that,  ef 
you'll  put  me  'n  my  leetle  brother  across." 

Mark  and  his  companion  went  down  to  the 
river.  Pretty  soon  a  wild-looking  man,  with  a 
beard  growing  straight  out  from  his  face  like 
the  spokes  of  a  cart  wheel,  came  cautiously 
down,  covering  them  with  a  shot  gun  as  he 
proceeded. 

"  Got  a  pass,  stranger  ?  " 
'"No." 

"  Reckon  they  won't  let  y"  land  when  y'  get 
over  thar." 

"These  army  fellers  are  like  a  rat  trap," 
said  Mark;  "  they  ain't  so  particular  as  to  gocn' 
in;  it's  the  goen'  out  they  don't  like.  But  y' 
better  try  to  strike  a  point  on  the  river  whar 
ther  ain't  no  guard." 

"  Fur  how  much  ?  " 

"  An  extra  fiver." 

"  Greenback?" 

"  You  ain't  very  patriotic.  Won't  y'  take 
Confederate  bills?" 

"  Not  when  I  can  get  green  uns." 

"  Y'  ain't  a  Union  man,  are  y'?" 

"  No.  But  I  know  a  valyble  thing  when  I 
sees  it." 

The  night  would  have  been  very  dark  had  it 


CffA  TTANOOGA .  6 1 

not  been  for  the  moon  behind  the  clouds.  As 
it  was  the  boat  could  only  be  seen  from  the 
shore  when  they  drew  too  near.  They  pulled 
up  the  river  west  of  Moccasin  Point,  keeping 
near  the  east  bank.  They  could  see  camp  fires 
of  guards  on  the  other  shore.  Once,  getting 
too  near  a  river  picket,  they  were  seen  and 
challenged. 

"  Who  goes  thar?  " 

"Oh,  none  o'  your  business!"  said  Mark 
jokingly. 

"  Pull  in  hyar,  or  I'll  make  it  some  o'  my 
business." 

"Oh  now,  see  hyar!  We  can't  stop  every 
five  minutes  to  please  a  guard ;  how  do  you 
know  but  we're  on  army  business?" 

"  Well,  pull  in  hyar  and  show  yer  papers." 

Meanwhile  the  ferryman  was  keeping  the 
oars  moving  gently  and  the  boat  turned  at  an 
angle  with  the  current,  which  was  taking  the 
boat  toward  the  east  shore.  "  Now  pull  away 
hearty,"  whispered  Mark,  and  the  boat  shot 
out  of  sight  of  the  picket  in  a  twinkling.  A 
bullet  whistled  over  their  heads,  but  wide  of 
the  mark. 

"Golly!"  exclaimed  Jakey.  "Whatapurty 
tune  it  sings  !  " 

They  were  now  off  Moccasin  Point,  and  Mark 
began  to  look  for  a  landing  place.  Just  above, 


62  CHATTANOOGA. 

he  noticed  a  camp  fire,  and  above  this  was  a 
place  where  the  bank  was  low,  with  overhang 
ing  trees.  Mark  directed  the  ferryman  to  pull 
for  these  trees.  He  slipped  a  handkerchief  in 
one  of  the  row  locks — the  only  one  used  in 
turning  the  boat  into  shore — so  as  to  muffle  the 
oar.  The  coast  seemed  to  be  clear  for  a  land 
ing,  but  as  they  drew  near  they  proceeded  cau 
tiously  and  listened  for  the  slightest  sound. 
The  boat's  nose  touched  without  noise  and 
Mark  and  Jakey  got  out. 

Mark  handed  the  wild-whiskered  ferryman 
the  crisp  ten-dollar  note,  which  he  clenched 
eagerly. 

"  Yer  purty  well  ter  do,  stranger,  considerin' 
yer  close." 

"  Didn't  y'  hyar  what  I  said  to  the  guard 
'bout  business  for  the  army  ?  " 

"  Yas." 

"  Wai,  don't  say  nothin'  'bout  it.  Th'  Con 
federate  service  pays  ez  it  goes." 

The  ferryman  cared  little  whom  he  pulled  if 
he  could  make  ten  dollars  in  one  night,  and 
dipping  his  oars  in  the  water,  rowed  away  from 
the  shore. 

Mark  turned  to  look  about  him.  His  first 
move  was  to  get  under  the  trees.  From  there 
he  proceeded  inland  for  a  short  distance,  look- 
for  something. 


CHATTANOOGA.  63 

"Ah,  here  it  is!"  he  said  presently.  "  Now 
I  know  where  I  am." 

He  had  struck  the  Nashville  &  Chattanooga 
railroad,  which  runs  close  to  the  river  bank 
for  about  a  mile  near  where  he  landed.  He 
knew  he  was  about  two  miles  from  the  town. 

"  Now,  Jakey,"  he  said,  "  we'll  bivouac  right 
here.  As  soon  as  it  is  light  we  must  set  out. 
Are  you  sleepy?" 

"Ami?     Reckon  I  am." 


VII. 

I 

THE   CAMPS   AT   CHATTANOOGA. 

AT  the  first  sign  of  dawn  Mark  awakened  his 
companion,  who  was  sleeping  so  soundly 
that  it  required  a  good  shake  to  rouse  him. 
Jakey  sat  up  and  rubbed  his  eyes  with  his  fists 
while  Mark  looked  about  him.  He  could  see 
down  the  river  for  half  a  mile,  where  he  noticed 
bluffs  to  the  water's  edge,  and  thought  it  was 
lucky  he  had  not  been  forced  to  land  there. 
Beyond  were  the  Racoon  Mountains,  while 
close  to  the  southwest  Lookout  Mountain 
towered  above  him. 

After  Jakey  had  completed  his  fist  toilet — 
the  only  toilet  either  made — Mark  led  off  on 
the  railroad  ties  to  Chattanooga.  The  railroad 
soon  left  the  river  bank,  and  they  proceeded  in 
a  northeasterly  direction,  striking  the  town 
from  the  south. 

A  great  many  tents  were  in  sight  as  they 
passed  along,  and  Mark  judged  at  once  that 
there  was  a  large  force  concentrated  there.  He 
was  tempted  to  turn  and  retrace  his  steps,  for 
he  knew  already  what  he  was  sent  to  discover, 


CHATTANOOGA.  65 

but  to  get  out  was  more  difficult  than  to  get 
in,  and  he  was  not  willing  to  risk  an  attempt 
in  the  day  time,  so  he  entered  the  town  in 
which  citizen  and  soldier  were  alike  asleep,  and 
without  meeting  a  soul,  walked  about  till  he 
came  to  a  hotel  called  the  Crutchfield  House. 
As  he  approached,  the  door  opened  and  a 
negro  boy  with  a  broom  in  his  hand  stood  in 
the  opening. 

"  Can  I  git  a  room  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

"  No,  sah  ;  not  till  de  proprietor  wakes  up." 

"  My  little  brother  is  tired  ;  he  must  go  to 
sleep  at  once." 

The  boy's  eyes  opened  wide  at  a  dollar  bill 
slipped  in  his  hand.  Without  a  word  he  took 
a  key  from  the  rack  above  a  desk  in  the  office, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  both  travelers  were  safely 
lodged,  with  no  one  but  the  negro  having  seen 
them  enter  the  town  or  the  house. 

"  So  far,  so  good,"  said  Mark.  "  Now  comes 
the  real  racket.  By  this  time  to-morrow  morn 
ing  I  shall  be  either  safe  across  the  river  again, 
or  I  wouldn't  give  a  Confederate  bond  for  my 
life." 

After  a  few  hours'  sleep  he  rose,  and  calling 
Jakey,  they  made  a  toilet  and  went  down  to 
breakfast.  Mark  had  purposely  neglected  to 
write  his  name  on  the  register,  and  hoped  that 
the  landlord  would  not  notice  the  omission. 


66  Off  A  TTANOOGA. 

But  he  did,  and  the  guest  entered  his  name  as 
Mark  Slack,  Jasper,  Tenn. 

After  breakfast  he  took  Jakey  and  strolled 
around  the  town,  making  purchases.  He 
thought  it  prudent  to  get  some  of  his  green 
backs  changed  for  Confederate  bills.  He  fol 
lowed  the  suggestion  Jakey  had  made  at  set 
ting  out  and  bought  some  calico  and  tobacco, 
and  the  squirrel  gun  Jakey  had  modestly  sug 
gested  for  himself.  Mark  was  not  unwilling  to 
have  the  gun  with  them,  as  he  thought  it  might 
possibly  be  of  service  in  case  he  should  get 
hunted  and  cornered ;  but  in  that  event  he 
counted  very  little  on  any  means  of  defense 
except  flight  or  deception. 

Mark  was  astonished  at  the  number  of 
officers  and  soldiers  he  saw  in  the  streets.  He 
found  a  new  general  in  command,  of  whom  he 
had  not  heard  as  a  prominent  leader,  Braxton 
Bragg.  He  made  a  circuit  of  the  town  and  an 
estimate  of  the  troops,  but  this  was  of  little 
value,  for  upon  the  arrival  of  trains,  regiment 
after  regiment  marched  into  camp.  Mark 
stood  on  the  sidewalk  holding  Jakey  by  the 
hand,  looking  at  the  Confederates  tramping 
along  under  the  Stars  and  Bars,  their  bands, 
when  they  had  any,  which  was  rare,  playing 
discordantly  "Dixie"  or  "The  Bonny  Blue 
Flag." 


CHATTANOOGA.  67 

"What  regiment  air  thet  ar?"  asked  Mark 
of  a  soldier  standing  beside  him  puffing  at  a 
rank  cigar. 

"  Eighth  Tennessee." 

"  Whar  they  all  come  from  ?  " 

"  Tupelo.  Come  from  thar  m'self  a  spell 
ago." 

"  Whar  y'  goen'  ?  " 

"  Only  old  Bragg  knows,  and  he  won't  tell. 
Reckon  we're  goen  no'th  to  Knoxville  ter  foller 
th'  two  brigades  ez  went  up  a  spell  ago." 

"  What  troops  air  all  these  hyar  and  them 
ez  is  comen  ?  " 

"  Wai,  thur's  Cheatham's  and  Withers's 
divisions  and  I  reckon  Anderson's.  I  sor 
Gineral  Polk  ter-day  'n  they  say  Hardee's 
hyar.  I'm  in  th'  Twenty-fourth  Tennessee 
m'self,  and  thet's  Cheatham's.  Lay's  cavalry 
brigade  is  hyar.  Thet's  all  the  cavalry  I 
knows  on." 

Mark  was  amazed.  A  large  Southern  fog:e 
was  concentrating  at  Chattanooga  and  perhaps 
they  would  pour  into  Tennessee  or  Kentucky 
by  one  of  the  routes  pointed  out  to  him  by  his 
general.  It  was  a  splendid  plan,  provided  the 
general  who  was  to  execute  it  could  keep  his 
enemy  from  knowing  his  intentions  long 
enough  to  throw  an  army  on  his  flank  or 
rear. 


68  CHATTANOOGA. 

Then  in  making  a  circuit  of  the  town  Mark 
was  impressed  with  the  natural  strength  of  the 
position.  He  gazed  over  the  plain  eastward, 
his  eye  resting  on  Missionary  Ridge  ;  but  did 
not  dream  of  the  soldiers'  battle  destined  to 
take  place  there  a  year  later,  when  the  men  in 
the  Army  of  the  Cumberland,  disregarding  the 
plans  of  their  superiors,  would  start  from  the 
bottom  of  that  mountain  and  defeat  an  enemy 
pouring  shot  and  shell  down  upon  them  from 
the  top. 

"  Why  didn't  our  generals  occupy  this  place 
when  they  could?"  sighed  Mark.  "  Now  it  is 
too  late." 

While  it  was  evident  to  Mark  that  the  enemy 
were  concentrating  for  a  move  against  the 
Union  lines,  there  was  nothing  to  indicate 
where  they  would  strike  except  the  mention  of 
the  two  brigades  as  having  gone  to  Knoxville. 
He  knew  that  they  might  strike  any  one  of 
several  points  from  Battle  Creek  to  Knoxville, 
and  eagerly  sought  for  some  indication  where 
it  would  be.  He  strolled  about  with  Jakey  all 
the  afternoon,  the  two  sufficiently  resembling 
country  bumpkins  to  avoid  suspicion.  Passing 
a  recruiting  station,  Mark  went  inside  the  tent, 
where  an  officer  was  writing  at  a  pine  table. 

"  Cap,"  he  said,  "  I  ben  thinken  I'd  like  ter 
jine  the  army." 


CHATTANOOGA.  69 

"  You're  just  the  man  we  want.  You've  got 
plenty  of  bone  and  muscle.  I  should  reckon 
you'd  a  been  in  the  ranks  afore  this." 

"Wai,  I  don't  want  ter  fight  outen  my  State 
'f  I  kin  help  it." 

"  What  State  ?  " 

"  Tennessee." 

"  I  reckon  you'll  have  a  chance  to  fight  in  it, 
if  you  join  the  army." 

"  Reckon  so  ?  " 

"Yas;  I'm  recruiten  fur  Cheatham's  division. 
Thur  all  Tennessee  rigements  in  our  division 
except  the  artillery  'n  a  rigement  o'  Georgia 
and  one  o'  Texas  infantry." 

"  Whar  is  yer  division  ?" 

"  Across  the  river.  At  Dallas  or  Poe's ;  some- 
whar  up  thar.  Y*  better  let  me  put  yo'  down 
fur  my  rigement,  the th  Tennessee." 

"  I  mought  hev  ter  go  way  down  South." 

"  No  fear  o'  that  just  now." 

"  What  makes  y'  cal'clate  on  't  ?  " 

"  There's  two  divisions  across  now — ourn 
and  Withers's.  Y'  don't  reckon  their  goen  ter 
cross  the  river  fur  the  purpose  o*  marchen 
south,  do  y'  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  nothen  "bout  military." 

"  Wai,  will  you  join  us?" 

"  Ef  y'  reckon  all  the  sojers  here  is  goen  to 
fight  in  old  Tennessee,  I  reckon  I  will.  The 


7°  CHATTANOOGA. 

abolition  army  hez  overrun  our  State,  'n  I  want 
ter  see  'em  driv  out." 

"  The  way  to  do  it,  my  good  man,  is  to  take 
a  musket  and  help." 

"  Do  you  reckon  that's  what  \ve're  goen  ter 
do?" 

"  I  tell  you  that  two  divisions  are  already 
across,  and  I  happen  to  know  that  all  the  trans 
portation  in  the  shape  of  cars  and  locomotives 
that  can  be  found  are  bein'  corraled  hyar  fur  a 
further  movement.  Come,  now,  my  man,  stop 
talken  and  take  yer  place  whar  yer  aughter  be. 
What's  yer  name  ?  " 

The  officer  took  up  a  pen. 

"  All  right,  Cap  ;  count  me  in.  I'll  jist  go'n 
git  my  bundle  and  be  back  hyar  in  half  an 
hour." 

The  captain  hesitated.  Mark  began  to  fear 
that  he  was  thinking  of  using  force  rather  than 
let  so  promising  a  recruit  go. 

"  Are  you  sure  you'll  come  back  ?  " 

"  Sarten,  Cap." 

Mark  moved  away,  and  it  was  not  until  he 
had  got  out  of  sight  that  he  realized  he  had  run 
a  great  risk,  for  he  saw  that  the  captain  would 
have  detained  him  had  he  not  believed  in  his 
sincerity  about  enlisting. 

Mark  went  straight  to  the  hotel  and  paid  his 
bill.  He  feared  the  recruiting  officer  might 


CHATTANOOGA.  71 

send  for  him  or  have  him  followed,  so  without 
waiting  to  eat  his  supper  he  made  a  package  of 
his  purchases  ;  Jakey  took  his  gun  and  slung 
his  powder  and  shot  flask  over  his  shoulder ; 
then  the  two  left  the  hotel  to  begin  an  attempt 
to  leave  Chattanooga.  Their  stay  had  been 
only  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  but  Mark  had 
gained  all  the  information  he  was  likely  to 
acquire,  and  was  anxious  to  get  away  with  it. 
True,  he  did  not  know  where  the  enemy  would 
strike,  but  this  he  would  not  be  likely  to  learn. 


VIII. 

PASSING  A  PICKET. 

down  to  the  ferry  they  found  a  boat 
\J  which  had  all  it  could  do  to  carry  the 
soldiers  and  citizens  who  were  crossing.  Mark 
thought  he  would  try  what  assurance  would  do 
in  getting  across  without  a  pass.  He  found 
the  guard  more  watchful  than  he  expected. 

"  Can't  y'  pass  me  'n  my  leetle  brother,  Lieu 
tenant?"  he  asked.  "We  ben  doen  some 
traden  in  Chattenoogy  and  want  ter  git  home. 
We  ben  buyen  some  caliker  fur  the  wimmen 
folks." 

"  Old  Bragg  himself  couldn't  go  over  without 
a  pass,"  responded  the  officer. 

"  Whar  mought  I  git  one  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

"  At  headquarters,  I  reckon." 

Mark  turned  away.  He  considered  the  ex 
pediency  of  going  to  headquarters  and  asking 
for  a  pass,  but  regarded  this  course  fraught 
with  too  much  risk.  He  determined  to  make 
an  attempt  to  get  out  of  town  and  across  the 
river  by  the  route  over  which  he  had  entered. 
He  knew  the  ground  by  this  route,  and  that 
73 


CHATTANOOGA.  73 

was  a  great  advantage.  If  he  could  steal  his 
way  beyond  the  picket  he  could  doubtless  find 
a  method  of  crossing.  Perhaps  he  might  make 
his  way  down  the  river  and  across  at  Shell 
mound,  or  still  lower  to  the  mouth  of  Battle 
Creek,  held  by  the  Union  forces. 

Mark  skirted  the  town  on  the  west,  and  then 
took  a  course  directly  south,  till  he  came  to 
the  railroad.  This  he  followed  to  a  point  near 
where  he  had  bivouacked  the  night  before. 
Crawling  to  a  rise  in  the  ground  and  motion 
ing  Jakey  to  keep  back,  he  laid  down  on  his 
stomach  to  make  a  survey. 

It  was  nearly  dark.  Silhouettes  of  figures 
were  passing  between  him  and  a  camp  fire  be 
side  the  railroad  track.  Beyond,  the  palisades 
of  Lookout  Mountain  stood  out  boldly  against 
a  streak  of  twilight  in  the  west.  Between  the 
track  and  the  river  was  an  open  space,  over 
which  he  must  pass  to  get  by  the  picket.  The 
river  bank  would  afford  some  protection. 
Near  where  he  was  it  was  steep,  and  the  cur 
rent  set  directly  against  it,  but  lower  down  by 
the  picket  there  appeared  to  be  places  where  a 
man  could  walk  under  the  low  bluff. 

The  moon  was  about  three-quarters  full,  and 
the  night  was  clear  except  for  clouds  that 
would  float  lazily  over  Lookout  Mountain 
and  across  the  moon's  face,  so  that  at  timec 


74  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

her  light  was  partly  obscured.  Mark  thought 
of  waiting  till  she  had  set,  but  this  would  not 
be  till  after  daylight.  He  made  up  his  mind 
to  make  the  attempt  at  once. 

Calling  Jakey,  he  gave  him  an  account  of 
what  he  intended  to  try  for,  and  told  him  that 
if  it  should  be  necessary  to  run  under  fire,  the 
boy  was  to  lie  down,  and  if  necessary  give 
himself  up,  but  on  no  account  to  risk  being 
shot.  Jakey  only  half  promised,  and  Mark  was 
obliged  to  be  satisfied  with  this.  Then,  wait 
ing  for  a  little  while  longer  for  the  twilight  to 
entirely  disappear,  and  a  cloud  to  obscure  the 
moon,  he  lay  on  the  ground  gathering  his  forces 
and  getting  his  mind  into  that  cool  state  re 
quisite  for  one  who  is  about  to  make  a  very 
hazardous  attempt. 

Presently  the  conditions  were  favorable  and 
he  got  up  and  led  the  way  to  the  river  bank, 
which  he  proposed  to  skirt.  He  left  his  bundle, 
but  took  Jakey's  gun,  loaded  and  capped,  in  his 
hand.  They  soon  gained  the  point  where 
they  had  landed  the  night  before,  nearly 
opposite  where  Mark  had  seen  the  silhouettes 
on  the  railroad.  Treading  as  noiselessly  as 
possible,  they  passed  along  the  river  margin 
under  the  overhanging  bank,  till  they  came  to 
a  place  where  the  bank  was  low.  Stooping, 
they  proceeded  for  a  short  distance  till  they 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  75 

reached  the  root  of  a  tree  that  had  been  felled 
long  before.     Here  they  paused  and  listened. 

Suddenly  they  heard  what  sounded  like  a 
musket  brought  from  a  shoulder  down  to  the 
hollow  of  a  hand,  and  a  voice  : 

"  Who  comes  thar?  " 

"  Corporal  of  the  guard,  with  relief." 

"Advance,  Corporal,  and  give  the  counter 
sign." 

Then  there  was  some  muttering,  and  foot 
steps  tramping  away. 

Mark  peeped  between  the  roots  of  the  stump 
toward  the  point  from  which  the  sounds  had 
come.  He  saw,  not  a  hundred  feet  away,  a 
man  sitting  on  a  log  with  his  musket  resting 
against  his  shoulder,  the  butt  on  the  ground. 
He  was  looking  listlessly  up  at  the  sky.  Pres 
ently  he  took  a  clay  pipe  out  of  his  pocket,  which 
he  filled,  and,  touching  a  match,  lighted  it. 

"  He's  the  river  picket,"  said  Mark  to  him 
self. 

The  sentinel  sat  smoking  while  Mark  medi 
tated.  His  first  thought  was,  why  did  I  bring 
this  boy?  The  situation  was  perilous  enough 
without  an  incumbrance.  The  guard  was  fac 
ing  the  space  over  which  they  would  have  to 
pass  to  escape  ;  there  might  be  a  slight  chance 
for  life  to  make  a  dash  were  he  alone,  but  with 
the  boy  it  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  and  Mark 


^6  CHATTANOOGA. 

was  unwilling  to  leave  him.  He  looked  back 
with  a  view  to  retracing  the  route  over  which  he 
had  come.  He  was  horrified  to  see  a  sentinel 
pacing  a  hundred  yards  above.  He  had  been 
placed  there  by  the  relief. 

The  only  hope  was  to  wait  for  the  man  near 
est  him  to  relax  his  watchfulness,  and  attempt 
to  pass  him.  The  sentinel  up  the  river  was  not 
to  be  feared  except  by  going  back,  for,  from  the 
nature  of  the  ground,  the  fugitives  would  be 
hidden  from  him  if  they  should  go  forward. 

Mark  resolved  to  wait  and  watch. 

The  minutes  seemed  hours  :  the  hours  days. 
The  soldier  still  sat  on  the  log,  though  now  and 
then  he  would  get  up,  and  leaving  his  musket 
leaning  on  it,  saunter  back  and  forth  on  his  beat. 
He  well  knew  there  was  no  enemy  to  fear ;  his 
duty  was  little  more  than  a  form. 

He  began  to  hum  a  few  strains  of  "  The 
Suwanee  River." 

"  Poor  devil,"  said  Mark  to  himself,  "  he,  too, 
is  thinking  of  home.  What  a  cursed  thing  war 
is  !  If  ever  I  get  out  of  this  I'll  do  no  more 
such  duty.  Give  me  an  enemy  face  to  face, 
bullets  before  me,  and  no  gibbet  behind 
me." 

But  he  had  said  this  many  a  time  before. 

"  My  good  man,"  talking  to  the  soldier,  but 
without  making  any  sound,  "  if  you  will  go  far 


CHATTANOOGA.  77 

enough  from  that  musket  you'll  never  get  back 
to  your  Suvvanee  River." 

"  Nonsense,  Mark,"  the  sentinel  seemed  to 
say  to  him,  "  a  shot  would  arouse  the  whole 
picket  post.  Besides,  if  that's  your  game, 
why  don't  you  riddle  me  with  Jakey's  shot 
gun  ?  " 

Then  the  stillness  was  broken  by  the  sound 
of  oars  out  on  the  river.  How  Mark  longed  for 
the  boat  to  come  and  take  him  from  his  terri 
ble  position.  But  whoever  was  working  those 
oars  pulled  on,  unmindful  of  the  man  who  so 
keenly  envied  the  oarsman's  freedom.  The 
sounds  became  fainter  and  fainter,  till  Mark 
could  hear  them  no  more.  He  sighed  as  if  he 
had  lost  a  dear  friend. 

"  Jakey's  comfortable,  anyway,"  he  said, 
looking  down  at  the  boy.  He  had  dropped 
asleep,  and  Mark,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
envied  a  human  being  the  protection  of  weak 
ness.  There  was  innocent  childhood,  uncon 
scious  of  danger,  sleeping  sweetly,  the  boyish 
face  lighted  by  the  moon. 

At  last  Mark  heard  the  relief  coming.  The 
sentinel  took  his  gun  and  began  to  pace  his 
beat.  The  usual  form  was  proceeded  with  and 
the  relief  marched  to  the  sentinel  up  the  river. 
Mark  observed  the  man  that  had  been  left  on 
post. 


7  8  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  I  hope  this  fellow  will  be  more  inclined  to 
rest,"  he  mused. 

But  he  was  disappointed  to  see  the  man  be 
gin  to  pace  his  beat  energetically.  He  seemed 
to  fear  that  if  he  did  not  keep  moving  he  would 
get  drowsy.  A  half  hour  passed  with  scarcely 
a  rest ;  then  another  half  hour.  It  was  tramp, 
tramp  in  one  direction,  turn,  and  tramp,  tramp 
back  again. 

The  clouds  which  continued  to  pass  over  the 
moon  became  heavier.  If  the  sentinel  would 
only  relax  his  vigilance,  these  periods  of  com 
parative  darkness  would  be  favorable  to  flight. 
But  if  the  soldier  was  to  keep  a  proper  watch 
the  clouds  might  die  away.  Then  there  was 
the  morning  to  come.  Mark  began  to  lose  that 
coolness  which  thus  far  had  characterized  him. 
It  was  the  waiting  that  was  wearing  him  out. 

In  perhaps  an  hour  after  the  sentinel  came 
on  picket  he  yawned.  This  was  the  first  sign 
of  hope  for  Mark.  After  a  while  he  sat  down 
on  the  log  and  yawned  several  times  at  inter 
vals.-  He  got  up  and  paced  for  a  while,  but  at 
last  sat  down  again.  This  time  he  sat  longer 
and  his  chin  sank  on  his  breast.  He  roused 
himself  and  sank  away  again.  He  would  not 
go  to  sleep  comfortably  in  accordance  with 
Mark's  muttered  prayer,  but  took  short  naps. 
Mark  considered  the  feasibility  of  an  attempt 


CHATTANOOGA.  79 

to  escape  between  these  naps.  Without  Jakey 
he  would  do  it ;  with  Jakey  it  was  too  hazardous. 

At  last  the  soldier  slid  down  on  to  the 
ground,  stretched  out  his  legs,  and  rested  his 
back  against  the  log. 

Mark's  heart  went  up  into  his  throat  with  a 
sudden  joy. 

As  near  as  he  could  guess  there  remained  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  till  the  next  relief  would 
come.  He  looked  at  the  moon,  which  was  now 
shining  with  provoking  brightness;  he  looked 
at  the  man  and  tried  to  make  sure  that  he  was 
asleep.  It  was  impossible  to  tell  with  any 
certainty. 

"I'll  risk' it,"  he  said. 

He  took  Jakey  up  in  his  arms  very  carefully, 
hoping  not  to  waken  him,  fixing  the  boy's 
limp  body  in  the  hollow  of  his  left  arm.  In 
the  right  hand  he  took  the  squirrel  gun,  cocked 
and  capped,  using  the  arm  at  the  same  time  to 
hold  the  child.  When  all  was  ready  he  rose 
slowly,  and  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  soldier. 

The  man  did  not  stir. 

Mark  moved  slowly  forward,  his  eyes  riveted 
on  the  sentinel.  A  few  steps  convinced  him 
that  the  man  really  slept.  Mark  turned  his 
back  on  him  and  walked  a  dozen  steps  noise 
lessly,  picking  a  place  to  plant  his  foot  at  each 
step. 


8o  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

Halt ! 

Was  it  the  soldier's  voice  ?  Should  he  turn 
and  shoot  him  ? 

No,  only  an  explosion  of  a  burning  brand  in 
the  camp  fire  at  the  picket  guard  on  the  rail 
road  track. 

His  heart,  which  had  stood  still,  began 
thumping  like  a  drumstick. 

He  turned  to  look  at  the  sentinel.  The  man 
sat  there  gazing  straight  at  him ;  at  least  so  he 
appeared  to  Mark.  The  figure  was  as  plain  as 
day  in  the  moonlight,  though  too  far  for  Mark 
to  see  the  eyes.  He  cast  a  quick  glance  down 
into  Jakey's  face.  He,  too,  was  sleeping  peace 
fully.  While  these  two  were  in  slumberland, 
Mark  felt  himself  suspended  between  heaven 
and  hell.  And  how  still  it  was.  Even  the  hum 
of  insects  would  have  been  a  relief. 

All  this  occupied  but  a  moment.  Mark 
turned  his  back  again  and  moved  cautiously 
forward. 

His  imagination  had  never  served  him  such 
tricks.  Surely  he  heard  the  soldier  move. 
He  was  getting  up  on  his  feet.  His  musket 
was  leveled  at  an  "  aim."  A  sharp  sting  under 
the  shoulder  blade,  and  a  warm  stream  flowing 
down  his  side.  Certainly  he  had  been  shot. 

Nonsense  !  away  with  such  freaks  of  fancy ! 

Suddenly  he  trod  on  a  rotten  branch.     It 


CHATTANOOGA.  81 

cracked  with  a  sound  which  seemed  to  him 
like  the  report  of  a  pistol. 

Again  he  paused  and  turned.  He  saw  the 
sentinel  motionless.  He  had  slipped  farther 
down  and  his  hat  had  fallen  farther  over  his 
forehead. 

Thank  God  ! 

He  moved  backward,  his  eyes  fixed  on  his 
sleeping  enemy,  occasionally  turning  to  see 
where  he  stepped.  He  was  getting  near  to 
cover.  In  this  way  he  passed  to  within  a  few 
steps  of  concealment.  How  he  coveted  the 
overhanging  bank  near  to  him,  yet  far  enough 
to  be  useless  should  the  sentinel  awake  too 
soon  ! 

Cachew ! 

This  sound  was  real;  it  was  a  sneeze  from 
the  picket. 

Mark  knew  that  it  was  a  signal  of  awaken 
ing.  He  darted  behind  the  bank  and  was  out 
of  sight. 

He  heard  the  sentinel  get  up,  shake  himself, 
give  a  yawn,  a  grunt,  as  if  chilled,  and  begin  to 
pace  his  beat. 

Mark  moved  away  cautiously,  a  great  flood 
of  joy  and  thankfulness  welling  up  through 
his  whole  nature.  After  going  a  sufficient  dis 
tance  to  be  out  of  hearing,  he  awakened 
Jakey. 


82  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  Jakey  !     Wake  up  !  " 

The  boy  opened  his  eyes. 

"  We're  beyond  the  picket." 

"  Whar's  my  gun  ? 

"  Oh,  blessed  childhood,"  thought  Mark,  "  that 
in  moments  of  peril  can  be  interested  in  such 
trifling  things !  " 

"  I  have  your  gun  here  in  my  hand.  It's 
safe.  Stand  on  your  legs,  my  boy.  We're 
going  on." 

Jakey  stood  on  the  ground  and  rubbed  his 
eyes  with  his  fists.  Once  awake  he  was  awake 
all  over. 

They  moved  on  down  the  river  toward  the 
base  of  Lookout  Mountain,  soon  leaving  the 
river  margin  and  striking  inland  behind  some 
rising  ground.  Finding  a  convenient  nook  in 
a  clump  of  bushes  wherein  to  leave  Jakey, 
Mark  told  him  to  lie  down  and  stay  there 
while  he  reconnoitered  to  find  a  way  to  get 
down  the  river  and  to  cross  it. 

Mark  hunted  nearly  all  night.  He  could 
find  no  practicable  route.  He  did  not  know 
how  to  proceed  around  Lookout  Mountain,  and 
could  find  no  means  of  crossing  the  Tennessee 
near  where  he  was.  At  last,  looking  down 
from  a  knoll,  he  could  see  the  margin  of  the 
river  at  a  place  where  the  bank  concealed  the 
shore  between  the  base  of  the  bank  and  the 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  83 

verge  of  the  water.  But  what  he  saw  espe 
cially,  and  which  gladdened  his  heart,  was  a 
boat  moored  to  the  shore  and  in  it  a  pair  of 
oars. 

Going  back  to  the  place  where  he  had  left 
Jakey,  he  wakened  him  and  together  they 
returned  to  the  knoll.  The  boat  was  still 
where  he  had  seen  it.  Leading  the  way,  Mark 
descended  to  the  bank.  So  intent  was  he  upon 
seizing  the  boat,  that  he  did  not  think  to  ap 
proach  cautiously.  He  forgot  that  where  there 
was  a  boat  with  oars  in  it,  the  oarsman  would 
likely  not  be  far  away. 

He  jumped  down  to  the  slanting  ground 
below  and  landed  in  the  midst  of  a  party  of 
Confederate  soldiers. 


IX. 

A  DESPERATE   SITUATION. 

NEVER  was  there  a  more  surprised  look  on 
any  man's  face  than  on  Mark's  at  the 
moment  he  discovered  the  men  into  whose 
midst  he  had  fallen.  He  knew  the  range  of 
the  Confederate  picket  line  and  was  unable  to 
understand  how  this  party  could  be  a  part  of 
it.  The  men  looked  equally  surprised  at  his 
appearance.  Indeed,  they  seemed  more  dis 
concerted  at  his  sudden  coming  than  he  was  at 
their  being  there.  When  he  made  his  leap 
among  them  they  were  about  to  get  into  the 
boat,  and  one  of  them  held  the  painter  in  his 
hand.  Mark  in  a  twinkling  made  up  his  mind 
that  they  were  not  pleased  at  his  appearance. 
He  determined  to  play  a  bold  game.  He  had 
no  defined  plan  when  he  began  to  speak  to 
them  ;  it  came  to  him  as  he  proceeded. 

"  What  are  you  men  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked, 
in  a  tone  that  none  but  a  soldier  knows  how  to 
assume. 

No  one  answered. 

"  What  regiment  do  you  belong  to  ?  " 
84 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  85 

No  answer. 

"  Is  there  a  non-commissioned  officer  among 
you  ?" 

There  was  so  much  of  authority  in  Mark's 
tone  that  it  compelled  an  answer,  and  a  re 
spectful  one. 

"  No,  sir." 

"  You  men  are  away  from  your  commands 
without  permission.  I  can  see  that  plainly." 

The  men  looked  guilty,  but  said  nothing. 

"You  evidently  don't  know  me.  I  am  an 
officer  of  General  Bragg's  staff,  on  an  important 
mission  of  secret  service." 

He  waited  a  moment  to  discover  the  effect 
of  his  words  and  then  proceeded  : 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  the  greatest  moment  that 
I  get  across  the  river  at  once.  I  want  you 
men  to  pull  me  over  and  then  report  im 
mediately  to  your  colonel.  Give  me  your 
names." 

Without  appearing  to  doubt  for  a  moment 
that  he  would  be  obeyed,  he  called  on  the 
men  successively  and  each  man  responded  with 
his  name.  There  were  five  men,  and  as  each 
answered  he  saluted  respectfully. 

"  Now,  what  regiment  do  you  belong  to  ?  " 

"The  — th  Tennessee." 

"  The  old  story,"  said  Mark  severely.  "  You 
men  are  doubtless  from  east  Tennessee.  You 


86  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

are  deserters,  trying  to  get  back  to  where  you 
came  from." 

Mark  had  hit  the  nail  on  the  head.  The 
men  looked  terror-stricken.  He  knew,  when 
he  ordered  them  to  pull  across  the  river,  that 
they  would  obey  him  gladly.  And  if  he  should 
leave  them  to  report  to  their  colonel,  they 
would  attempt  to  make  their  way  North  in 
stead. 

"  Get  into  the  boat,  every  one  of  you." 

Every  man  got  into  the  boat  and  one  of 
them  took  the  oars. 

"  Now,  if  you  will  get  me  over  quickly  I'll 
see  what  I  can  do  for  you  with  your  command 
ing  officer  when  I  return." 

Jakey  was  standing  on  the  bank  with  his 
eyes  wide  open  at  this  scene.  Mark  had  been 
a  hero  with  him  :  now  he  was  little  less  than  a 
god. 

"  Do  you  want  to  get  across  the  river,  my 
little  man?"  asked  Mark,  as  if  he  had  never 
seen  the  boy  before. 

"  Does  I  want  ter?    Course  I  does." 

"Jump  in  then,  quick.  I've  no  time  to 
lose." 

Jakey  came  down  and  got  in  with  the  rest. 

"  Give  way,"  cried  Mark,  and  the  boat  shot 
out  from  the  shore. 

Not  a  dozen  strokes  had  been  taken  before 


CHATTANOOGA.  87 

Mark,  who  was  delighted  at  the  success  of  his 
assurance,  saw  a  sight  that  made  his  heart  sink 
within  him.  A  boat  shot  around  Moccasin 
Point  from  the  eastward. 

God  in  heaven  !  it  was  full  of  armed  men. 

As  soon  as  they  saw  the  skiff  with  Mark  and 
the  deserters  in  it — for  such  they  were — they 
pulled  straight  for  them.  In  five  minutes  they 
were  alongside. 

"  I  reckon  you're  the  men  we're  looking 
for."  said  an  officer,  seated  in  the  stern. 

"  Who  are  you  looking  for?"  asked  Mark, 
with  as  much  coolness  as  he  could  assume. 

"  Deserters  from  the  — th  TVwnessee." 

Mark  knew  it  was  all  up  with  him.  His 
assumption  of  being  on  General  Bragg's  staff, 
which  had  been  so  successful  a  ruse,  suddenly 
appeared  to  him  a  halter  about  his  neck. 

"  Hand  over  your  guns,"  said  the  officer. 

The  guns  were  handed  into  the  boat,  all  ex 
cept  Jakey's  shot-gun. 

"  That  other-one,  too." 

"That's  only  a  shot-gun,  Captain,"  said 
Mark. 

"Well,  never  mind  the  pop-gun." 

Every  moment  the  deserters  looked  for 
Mark  to  declare  his  exalted  position  on  Gen 
eral  Bragg's  staff ;  but  no  such  declaration 
came.  It  seemed  possible  to  them  that  per- 


88  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

haps  he  would  not  wish  to  disclose  his  identity 
to  so  many;  at  any  rate,  they  said  nothing. 
Had  it  not  been  for  this  assumption,  Mark 
would  have  applied  to  the  captain  to  let  a  poor 
countryman  and  his  little  brother  pass.  Had 
he  done  so  it  is  quite  possible  that  the  men  he 
had  deceived,  surmising  that  he  was  a  refugee 
like  themselves,  would  not  have  betrayed  him  ; 
but  Mark  knew  that,  besides  this  danger,  the 
officer  having  found  him  in  such  company 
would  not  let  him  go. 

Mark's  heart  was  heavy,  as  the  boat  in  which 
he  sat  was  pulled  slowly  against  the  current  to 
Chattanooga.  He  realized  that  there  was  now 
no  opportunity  for  his  wits,  on  which  he  usually 
relied,  to  work.  He  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
enemy  :  he  would  not  be  released  without  a 
thorough  questioning,  and  he  could  say  nothing 
that  would  not  tell  against  him. 

On  landing,  all  were  taken  to  the  provost  mar 
shal's  office.  The  soldiers  acknowledged  that 
they  were  members  of  the  — th  Tennessee  Regi 
ment,  but  stoutly  denied  that  they  were  de 
serters.  They  were  Union  men,  some  of  them 
Northerners,  who  had  been  impressed  into  the 
Confederate  service,  or  had  enlisted  for  the 
purpose  of  flying  to  the  stars  and  stripes  as 
soon  as  they  could  get  near  enough  to  warrant 
an  attempt.  They  were  sent  to  their  regiment 


CHATTANOOGA.  89 

under  guard.  As  they  were  leaving,  one  of 
them  said  to  Mark : 

"  I  hope  you'll  keep  your  promise." 

Mark  did  not  reply ;  he  had  cherished  a  hope 
that  they  would  be  taken  away  before  any 
thing  would  come  out  as  to  his  assumption  of 
authority. 

"What  promise?"  asked  the  provost  mar 
shal  quickly. 

"  He's  an  officer  on  General  Bragg's  staff. 
You  ought  to  know  him,  Colonel." 

"The  devil!"  exclaimed  the  colonel. 

"Oh,  I  saw  the  men  were  doing  something 
they  were  ashamed  of,  and  I  bluffed  'em  to  row 
me  across,"  said  Mark,  with  assumed  careless 
ness. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  belong  in  east  7>/messee." 

"  You  don't  belong  in  any  such  place. 
You're  not  Southern  born  at  all.  You're  a 
Yankee.  I  thought  you  were  only  trying  to 
get  North  with  these  men,  now  I  believe  you 
are  a  spy." 

"I'm  a  Southern  man,  sartin,"  said  Mark, 
with  such  coolness  that  the  officer  was  for  a 
moment  in  doubt  as  to  his  surmise. 

"  Let  me  hear  you  say  New  York." 

"  New  York." 

"  New  York,"    repeated    the   colonel    ironi- 


90  CHA  TTA  NOOGA . 

cally.  "  If  you  were  a  Southern  man,  you'd 
say  Niew  Yawk.  I  shall  have  to  hold  you  for 
further  information." 

"  I  would  like  to  go  to  my  home  in  Ten 
nessee.  I  came  here  to  buy  a  gun  for  my 
brother.  But  if  you  won't  let  me,  I'll  have  to 
stay  with  you,  I  suppose.  Only  I  hope  you 
won't  separate  us.  Jakey's  very  young  and  I 
don't  want  to  turn  him  adrift  alone  in  a  strange 
town." 

"I  shall  have  to  hold  you  till  I  can  report 
the  case  to  headquarters,"  said  the  officer ; 
and  Mark  and  Jakey  were  led  away  to  a  room 
in  the  house  occupied  by  the  provost  marshal 
for  prisoners  temporarily  passing  through  his 
hands. 

The  reply  that  came  to  the  announcement 
of  the  capture  of  the  citizen  and  the  boy  was 
to  hold  them  under  vigilant  guard.  It  was 
reported  that  Mark  had  been  personating  an 
officer  of  the  staff  and  this  looked  very  sus 
picious  ;  indeed,  quite  enough  so  to  warrant 
their  trying  him  for  a  spy  by  drum-head  court 
martial,  and  executing  him  the  next  morning. 

Mark  was  searched  and  everything  of  value 
taken  from  him.  They  went  through  Jakey's 
pockets  and  felt  of  the  lining  of  his  coat,  but 
as  he  was  a  child,  the  search  was  not  very 
thorough,  or  they  would  have  found  the  bill:- 


CHATTANOOGA.  91 

in  his  boot.  They  took  his  gun,  but  by  this 
time  Jakey  realized  that  there  was  something 
more  momentous  than  a  squirrel  gun  at  stake 
and  parted  with  it  without  showing  any  great 
reluctance.  He  realized  that  Mark,  for  whom 
he  had  by  this  time  conceived  a  regard  little 
short  of  idolatry,  was  in  danger,  and  the  boy 
for  the  first  time  began  to  feel  that  his  friend 
could  not  accomplish  everything. 

Jakey  stood  looking  on  stolidly  as  Mark  was 
searched,  till  he  saw  a  soldier  take  Souri's  red 
silk  handkerchief.  He  had  produced  the  im 
pression  on  the  searchers  he  had  at  first  pro 
duced  upon  Mark,  that  he  was  stupid  beyond 
his  years.  As  the  man  grasped  the  handker 
chief,  and  was  about  to  put  it  in  his  pocket, 
Jakey  set  up  a  howl. 

"  What's  the  matter,  sonny?"  asked  one  of 
the  soldiers. 

"  My  hanchikuff,"  he  whined. 

"  Is  it  yours?  " 

"Yas." 

"  Give  the  boy  his  wipe,"  said  the  man  to 
the  would-be  appropriator.  "  Don't  rob  a 
child." 

So  Jakey  preserved  his  handkerchief. 

Then  they  were  marched  away  together  to  a 
small  building  used  for  a  negro  jail.  It  was 
two  stories  high,  though  the  lower  story  had 


92  CHATTANOOGA. 

no  windows.  The  upper  part  was  reached  by 
a  long  flight  of  steps  outside  the  building. 
The  lower  part  was  a  dungeon,  and  though 
used  to  confine  negroes,  there  had  been  a  num 
ber  of  East  Tennesseeans  imprisoned  there. 
The  place  was  kept  by  an  old  man  and  his  wife, 
named  Triggs.  Mark  was  put  into  a  room  in 
the  upper  story.  A  guard  was  stationed  at 
the  door,  and  the  only  window  was  barred. 
Had  Mark  been  arrested  with  definite  proof 
that  he  was  a  spy,  he  would  doubtless  have 
been  put  in  the  dungeon.  As  it  was,  he  was 
only  guarded  with  ordinary  caution.  "This, 
however,  seemed  quite  sufficient  to  prevent  his 
escape.  Jakey  was  put  into  a  room  by  him 
self,  but  he  was  not  required  to  stay  there. 
He  was  suffered  to  go  and  come  at  will,  except 
that  the  guard  at  the  gate  was  ordered  not  to 
let  him  leave  the  yard.  He  asked  the  jailer's 
wife  to  permit  him  to  go  in  to  Mark  so  often, 
the  first  morning  of  his  arrival,  that  at  last  the 
guard  at  the  door  was  instructed  to  pass  him 
in  and  out  at  will. 

"  Well,  Jakey,"  said  Mark,  when  they  were 
together  in  their  new  quarters,  "  this  looks 
pretty  blue." 

"  Reckon  it  does." 

"  You'd  better  not  stay  here.  Go  out  in  the 
yard  and  I'll  try  to  think  up  some  plan.  But 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  93 

I  must  confess  I  don't  see  any  way  out,"  and 
Mark  rested  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  and  put 
ting  his  face  in  his  hands,  thought  upon  his 
perilous  situation. 

"  Jist  you  don't  worrit,"  said  Jakey.  "  Some 
pin  '11  turn  up,  sho." 

"  Well,  go  out  into  the  sunlight  ;  don't  stay 
here.  If  they  sentence  me  to  hang  I'll  try  to 
get  them  to  send  you  home." 


X. 

THE   RED   SILK   HANDKERCHIEF. 

r^REATNESS  underlying  an  uninviting  ex- 
\J  terior  is  often  called  out  by  circumstances. 
President  Lincoln  would  not  have  been  the 
"  Great  Emancipator,"  had  he  not  been  born 
in  the  nick  of  time.  General  Grant  would  not 
have  become  prominent  as  a  soldier,  had  the 
civil  war  occurred  before  or  after  he  was  a  fit 
age  to  lead  the  Union  armies ;  and  Jakey 
Slack — well,  Jakey  would  not  have  developed 
his  ability  as  a  strategist,  had  it  not  been  for 
his  friend  Mark  Malone  and  the  negro  jail  at 
Chattanooga. 

Jakey  was  as  incompetent  to  sit  down  and 
think  out  a  plan  for  his  friend's  escape  as  he 
was  to  demonstrate  a  proposition  of  Euclid. 
He  could  neither  add  columns  of  two  figures 
nor  spell  words  of  one  syllable ;  indeed,  he 
could  neither  read,  write,  nor  cypher ;  the 
want  of  an  ability  to  read  or  write  being  a 
great  disadvantage  to  him  in  his  present  re 
sponsible  position.  But  the  desire  to  help  his 
friend  out  of  a  bad  fix  having  got  into  his 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  95 

brain,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  it  simmered 
there,  and  then  boiled  a  little,  and  simmered 
and  boiled  again.  Like  most  people  of  genius, 
Jakey  was  unconscious  of  his  own  powers  ;  but 
there  was  one  person  in  whom,  next  to  Mark, 
he  had  great  confidence  ;  that  was  his  sister 
Souri.  Then  came  the  thought  that  if  Souri 
were  only  there,  "  she  mought  do  a  heap." 
This  led  Jakey  up  to  the  problem,  how  to  get 
her  there.  The  problem  was  too  difficult  for 
his  young  brain  to  solve,  so  he  got  no  further, 
until  circumstances  came  to  his  aid ;  or  may 
he  not  have  had  the  germs  of  reason  within 
him  to  go  further  without  being  definitely  con 
scious  of  them. 

When  he  left  Mark  he  went  out  into  the  jail 
yard  and  began  to  stroll  about  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets.  To  a  casual  observer  he  was 
simply  a  boy  with  no  playmates,  who  did  not 
know  what  to  do  with  himself.  If  anyone  had 
been  near  him  he  would  have  seen  his  little 
eyes  continually  watching  for  some  means  of 
communication  with  the  outside  world.  Occa 
sionally  he  would  wander  near  the  fence,  first 
casting  a  sly  glance  at  the  jail.  There  were 
cracks  between  the  boards,  and  Jakey  was 
looking  out  for  a  good  wide  crack  to  spy 
through.  At  last  he  found  a  place  to  suit  him 
and  hovered  about  it  listening  for  a  footstep, 


96  CHA  TTA  NOOGA . 

and  occasionally  getting  a  quick  glance  through 
the  opening  by  putting  his  eye  to  it.  But 
Jakey  knew  well  that  if  caught  at  this  he 
would  be  called  into  the  jail  and  forced  to  stay 
there ;  so  he  preferred  to  rely  on  his  sense  of 
hearing  rather  than  on  his  sense  of  sight. 

The  jail  was  in  an  unfrequented  place,  and 
he  was  not  soon  rewarded.  A  man  went  by, 
but  he  was  too  far.  Then  another  man  ;  but 
Jakey  studied  his  face  and  let  him  go  without 
stopping  him.  At  last  an  old  negro  woman 
passed  with  a  basket  on  her  arm,  smoking  a 
short  clay  pipe. 

"  Auntie  !  "  called  the  boy. 

"  Lawd  a  massy !  is  de  angel  ob  de  Lawd 
speaken  to  his  saryent  from  de  clouds?"  said 
the  old  woman,  starting  and  dropping  her 
basket. 

"  Auntie  !  hyar  at  the  crack." 

"Who  is  yo'  callen  ?  Yo'  mus' be  a  chile 
from  yo'  voice." 

"  Put  yer  eye  close  up  to  de  fence  and  y' 
can  see  me;  at  the  crack." 

The  woman  drew  near  and  put  her  eye  to  the 
crack.  Jakey  stood  off  a  little  way  and  she 
could  see  him  plainly.  Meanwhile  he  pretended 
to  have  lost  something  on  the  ground. 

"Why  bress  my  po'  ole  heart,  Honey,  ef  y' 
ain't  nothen  but  a  leetle  boy  in  de  jail  yard. 


CHA  TTAtfOOGA.  97 

'T'aught  t'  be  'nuf  to  keep  dem  po'  misable 
pof  white  East  Tennessans  dar  what  dey  had 
in  de  cellar  wid-out  keepen  a  chile." 

"My  brother's  a  prisoner  'n  so  air  I,"  said 
Jakey,  in  a  melancholy  voice. 

"  Climb  oberde  fence,  Honey,  and  run  away." 

"  The  fence  air  too  high  and  I  ain't  a  goen  fur 
to  leave  my  brother  anyway.  See  hyar,  aunty, 
are  you  niggers  Union  or  Secesh  ?  " 

"  Why,  Honey,  do  you  tink  we  turn  agin  ou 
own  folks  ?  Ain't  de  Yankee  sojers  comen 
down  fur  to  gib  us  liberation  ?  " 

"  Ef  y'  c'd  save  a  Union  sojer  from  a  hangen 
w'd  y'  do  it  ?" 

"  Fo'  de  Lawd,  I  would  !  " 

"  Then  send  this  hanshicqf  to  Souri  Slack." 

"Who  Souri  Slack?" 

"  She's  my  sister ;  she  lives  at  Farmer 
Slack's." 

"  Whar  dat  ?  " 

"  On  the  Anderson  road,  close  onter  the 
Sequatchie  River." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  Jakey 
continued  his  efforts  to  find  something  at  his 
feet.  He  picked  up  a  stone,  rolled  it  in  the 
handkerchief  and  threw  them  over  the  fence. 

"What  good  dat  do?"  asked  the  colored 
woman,  picking  up  the  missile  of  war. 

"  When  Souri  git's  it  she'll  know." 


98  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

"Will  dat  sabe  de  Union  sojer's  neck?" 

"  Mebbe  't  mought,  'n  mebbe  't  mought  n't." 

"  I  cain't  go  myself.  I'm  too  ole.  But  I'll 
start  hit  along.  Reckon  de  darkies  '11  tote  it." 

She  picked  up  her  basket  and  was  moving 
away  when  Jakey  called  to  her. 

"Auntie!" 

"What,  Honey?" 

"  Yer  mought  git  some  un  to  tote  hit  ter 
an  old  nigger  named  Jefferson  Randolph,  ez 
lives  up  a  creek  'bout  five  mile  from  hyar,  near 
the  pike  runnen  that-a-vvay.  Mebbe  he'll  pass 
hit  on." 

"  Sho'  nuff." 

"  Yo'  boy  thar  !  " 

The  jailor's  wife  was  standing  in  an  open 
window  regarding  Jakey  severely. 

"  Come  away  from  that  ar  fence  !  " 

Jakey  skipped  along  toward  her,  doing  a 
little  waltzing  as  he  went. 

"  Ef  that  ar  boy  wasn't  sich  a  chile,  I'd  think 
he'd  been  up  to  somepen." 

"What  war  yer  a  doen  by  that  ar  fence?" 
she  asked  when  he  came  up. 

"Nuthen." 

"  What  war  that  yer  throwed  over  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  war  only  throwen  stones." 

"  What  yer  throwen  stones  that-a-way  fur  ?  " 

"  Fur  fun." 


CHATTANOOGA.  99 

"  Well  yer  just  keep  away  from  th'  fence  er 
y'  shan't  play  in  th'  yard  at  all.  I'll  shet  y' 
up  with  that  big  brother  o'  yourn." 

"  Wai,  I  won't  go  thar  no  more,"  And  Ja- 
key  took  a  top  out  of  his  trouser's  pocket  and 
began  plugging  imaginary  tops  on  the  ground. 

Mark  hoped  that  the  preparations  the  Con 
federates  were  making  for  the  expected  move 
would  cause  them  to  forget  him.  He  was  not 
destined  to  be  so  fortunate.  The  second  day 
after  hi.s  capture  he  was  taken  before  a  court 
martial  held  in  a  house  occupied  by  the  staff 
department,  to  be  tried  on  the  charge  of  being 
a  spy. 

The  court  was  assembled  and  ready  to  pro 
ceed  with  the  case.  An  officer  had  been  de 
tailed  to  defend  the  prisoner,  but  he  had  not 
arrived,  and  the  court  waited.  Presently  a 
clatter  of  horse's  hoofs  was  heard  outside.  It 
stopped  before  the  door  of  the  house,  and  in  an 
other  moment  Mark's  counsel  entered  the  room. 

Mark  looked  at  him  with  astonishment.  In 
the  tall,  straight  soldier,  with  black  hair  and 
eyes,  mustache  and  goatee,  bearing  about  him 
that  something  which  indicates  "to  the  manor 
born,"  he  recognized  the  officer  who  had  called 
at  the  Fains'  on  the  morning  he  had  left  them 
— Captain  Cameron  Fitz  Hugh. 


i  oo  CHA  TTA  XOOGA . 

As  soon  as  he  entered,  he  beckoned  the 
prisoner  to  follow  him  to  a  corner  of  the  room 
apart  from  the  others  for  consultation.  It  was 
not  a  convenient  place  for  such  an  important 
interview,  but  one  charged  with  being  a  spy 
was  not  likely  to  get  many  favors,  and  the  ex 
igencies  of  the  case  did  not  admit  of  aught 
except  the  bare  forms  of  justice. 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  confidence,  my  man, 
or  shall  I  proceed  at  random  ?  " 

"At  random." 

"  If  you  think  it  best  to  trust  me,  I  give 
you  the  word  of  a  Virginia  gentleman,  that  I 
will  not  betray  you,  and  I  will  do  all  I  can  for 
you.  I  am  a  Fitz  Hugh." 

He  said  this  unconscious  of  how  it  would 
sound  to  a  Northerner.  To  him,  to  be  a  Fitz 
Hugh  was  to  be  incapable  of  a  dishonorable 
act.  Mark  understood  him  perfectly;  indeed, 
his  counsel  inspired  him  with  every  confi 
dence. 

"  I  would  explain  everything  to  you,  Captain, 
but  my  secret  is  not  all  my  own.  I  would  be 
perfectly  willing  to  trust  my  fate  in  your 
hands  if  I  could  honorably  do  so.  You  will 
doubtless  fail  in  your  defense,  but  I  thank  you 
for  the  effort  you  will  make." 

The  trial  was  of  brief  duration.  The  sol 
diers  in  whose  company  Mark  was  taken  were 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  I  o  I 

called  and  testified  to  his  having  masqueraded 
as  a  staff  officer.  Knowing  now  that  he  was 
probably  a  Union  spy  they  would  have  shielded 
him,  but  they  had  already  given  up  the  secret. 
Mark  \vas  asked  where  he  lived.  He  had 
entered  his  name  at  the  hotel  as  coming  from 
Jasper,  so  he  gave  that  place  as  his  residence  ; 
but  when  asked  what  county  Jasper  was  in  he 
could  not  tell.  The  maps  he  had  studied 
being  military  maps  did  not  give  the  counties. 
Then  some  Tennessee  soldiers  were  brought 
in — the  town  swarmed  with  them — who  testi 
fied  that  they  lived  at  Jasper  and  had  never 
seen  the  prisoner  there.  The  closing  evidence 
against  Mark  was  given  by  the  recruiting  offi 
cer  with  whom  he  had  promised  to  enlist. 
Hearing  that  a  spy  had  been  taken,  and  sus 
pecting  it  might  be  his  promised  recruit,  he 
went  to  the  court-room  and  there  recognized 
the  prisoner.  His  testimony  was  sufficient. 
The  court  had  made  up  its  mind  before  the 
prisoner's  counsel  had  said  a  word. 

Captain  Fitz  Hugh  seemed  distressed  at  not 
being  able  to  bring  forth  any  evidence  in  be 
half  of  the  prisoner.  When  he  arose  to  speak 
in  Mark's  defense,  the  court  listened  to  him 
with  marked  attention  and  respect ;  indeed 
they  were  as  favorably  impressed  with  the  ac 
cused's  counsel  as  they  were  unfavorably  dis- 


102  CHATTANOOGA. 

posed  toward  the  accused.  The  captain  was 
obliged  to  content  himself  with  warning  the 
court  against  convicting  a  man  of  being  a  spy 
because  his  identity  \vas  not  satisfactorily  ex 
plained  and  on  circumstantial  evidence.  He 
asked  that  the  prisoner  might  have  more  time 
than  had  been  given  him  in  which  to  gather 
evidence  in  his  behalf. 

The  court  denied  this  request  and  proceeded 
with  a  verdict.  In  forty  minutes  after  Mark 
entered  the  court-room  he  was  found  guilty  of 
being  a  spy. 

"  Have  you  anything  to  say  why  the  sentence 
of  the  court  should  not  be  passed  upon  you  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

Captain  Fitz  Hugh  interposed  once  more  for 
delay. 

"I  would  suggest,"  he  said,  "that  inasmuch 
as  some  explanation  may  come  to  hand  bear 
ing  on  the  case,  the  court  fix  my  client's  punish- 
ishment  to  take  place  on  a  day  not  nearer  than 
a  week  from  to-day." 

"  I  had  intended  to  fix  it  for  to-morrow 
morning  at  sunrise,"  said  the  president, "  but 
in  deference  to  the  wishes  of  the  prisoner's 
counsel,  I  will  compromise  with  him  midway 
between  a  week,  as  he  desires,  and  to-morrow, 
or  allowing  three  days.  The  sentence  of  the 
court  is  that  the  prisoner  be  hanged  by  the 


CHATTANOOGA.  10, 

neck  until  he  is  dead,  on  the  2/th  day  of 
August,  1862,  or  three  days  from  to-day." 

Before  Mark  was  led  out  of  the  court-room, 
his  counsel  approached  him.  Considering  the 
prejudice  against  the  prisoner,  another  man 
would  have  suffered  him  to  go  without  a  word. 
Not  so  Captain  Fitz  Hugh.  He  strode  up  to 
Mark,  the  officers  and  soldiers  present  making 
a  way  for  him,  leaving  him  alone  with  the 
prisoner  by  withdrawing  to  another  part  of  the 
room,  and  extended  his  hand. 

"  One  thing  is  plain  to  me,"  he  said,  "who 
ever  you  are,  you  are  a  gentleman,  and  I  believe 
you  have  sacrificed  your  life  to  your  sense  of 
duty.  I  am  sorry  that  you  did  not  trust  me 
with  your  secret.  Then  I  might  have  done 
something  for  you.  As  it  is,  I  have  done 
nothing." 

"  It  would  have  availed  nothing,"  said  Mark. 
"You  have  done  all  you  could  under  any  cir 
cumstances.  Besides,  had  I  told  you  who  I 
am,  you  might  have  felt  it  your  bounden  duty 
to  your  cause  to  make  known  the  facts." 

"  Never  !"  said  Fitz  Hugh  proudly.  "  I  owe 
more  to  myself,  more  to  my  sense  of  honor, 
more  to  my  birth  and  breeding,  more  even  to 
my  State,  than  to  the  Confederacy." 

"  Captain  Fitz  Hugh,"  said  Mark,  with  a 
voice  in  which  there  was  a  slight  tremble 


104  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  you  are  of  too  fine  grain.  You  are  too  frank, 
too  truthful.  Do  not  feel  a  moment's  regret 
at  not  having  been  able  to  save  me.  Mine  is 
but  one  of  thousands  of  lives  that  must  go 
out  in  this  great  struggle  for  human  liberty. 
Mine  is  an  ordinary  nature.  You  are  fit 
ted  for  nobler  work  than  war.  I  trust  you 
will  be  spared  to  become  an  honor  to  your 
State  and  a  reunited  country.  From  the  bot 
tom  of  my  heart  I  thank  you." 

The  men  clasped  hands  and  Mark  was  led 
away  between  two  soldiers. 


XL 

DE    CAUSE   OB   FREDUM. 

ON  the  morning  after  Jakey's  interview  with 
the  colored  woman  through  the  crack  in 
the  jail-yard  fence,  Souri  Slack  was  washing 
dishes  by  an  open  window  in  the  kitchen,  an 
addition  built  of  pine  boards  to  one  of  the 
united  houses  which  formed  the  Slack  dwel 
ling.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and  a 
morning-glory  she  had  trained  up  to  grow 
about  the  window  was  fresh  with  dew.  Souri's 
heart  felt  unusually  light.  The  air  was  so 
fresh  ;  the  sun  was  so  bright  ;  the  morning- 
glory  flowers  had  such  a  companionable  look 
in  them  that  Souri  was  very  happy. 

Suddenly  there  came  to  her  a  quick  sinking 
away  from  the  pleasurable  sensation.  A  sense 
of  danger  rushed  in  to  take  its  place.  Surely 
something  horrible  was  about  to  happen. 

In  a  moment  she  heard  the  clatter  of  horse's 
hoofs,  coming  at  a  gallop.  Looking  up  the 
road,  of  which  she  had  a  view  from  the  window, 
she  saw  a  horse  covered  with  foam  tearing  to 
ward  her  with  a  negro  boy  on  his  bare  back. 
In  a  moment  the  rider  was  at  the  fence  and 


io6  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

had  reined  in  his  horse.  Wild  with  haste  and 
excitement,  seeing  Souri  at  the  window,  he 
called  : 

"  Am  dis  Slack's  place  ?  " 

"Yas." 

"Whar  Souri  Slack?" 

"  Hyar." 

"You?" 

"  Yas." 

The  boy  held  up  a  red  handkerchief,  and 
then  jumping  off  his  horse,  threw  the  reins 
over  a  picket  in  the  fence,  which  he  vaulted, 
and  running  up  to  the  window,  poked  the  hand 
kerchief  at  her.  Souri  at  once  recognized  the 
handkerchief  she  had  given  Mark.  Sewed 
on  to  a  corner  she  noticed  a  piece  of  dirty  cot 
ton  cloth  on  which  some  one  had  written  with 
a  pen  in  blotted  letters  : 


"  Whar  d'  yo  git  this  ?  "  asked  Souri,  her  face 
white  as  ashes. 

"  Dunno.  Left  wid  de  niggers  at  Mr.  Tor- 
but's  plantation.  I'se  Mr.  Torbut's  nigger." 


CHATTANOOGA.  107 

"  Who  tole  yer  ter  tote  hit  hyar?  " 

"  Ole  nigger  what  leabe  hit." 

"  What  d'  he  say  ?  " 

"  Nuffen."  And  the  boy  pointed  to  the  cor 
ner,  as  if  that  was  sufficient  explanation  for  any 
one. 

Souri  could  not  read  what  was  written  there, 
but  she  knew  Mark  had  been  captured,  and  it 
was  fair  to  suppose  that  he  was  at  or  near 
Chattanooga. 

"  Wai,"  she  said,  "  you  niggers  hev  passed 
this  ter  me  ;  reckon  yer  ken  pass  me  back ; 
I'll  go  'th  y'.  Air  y'  hungry  ?  " 

"  1's  rid  since  one  o'clock  dis  mawnin." 

"  Wai,  take  yer  horse  round  ter  the  barn  fur 
a  feed,  and  then  come  in  hyar." 

The  darky  showed  his  white  teeth  and  did 
as  he  was  bidden.  When  he  came  in,  Souri 
placed  something  to  eat  before  him,  and  then 
went  in  to  inform  her  mother  of  what  had  hap 
pened. 

"  Maw,"  she  said,  "  Jakey's  tuk." 

"La  sakes!"  exclaimed  the  mother  with  a 
scream.  "  Air  they  goen  ter  hang  him  ?  " 

"  Don't  know.  The  sojer's  tuk  too.  Reckon 
they'll  hang  him,  sartin'." 

"  How  d'  yer  know  ?" 

Souri  told  her  about  giving  Mark  the  hand 
kerchief  and  its  return  "In  de  cause  ob  fredum," 


108  CHATTANOOGA. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  moaned  the  mother, 
rocking  in  concert  with  her  feelings. 

"  I'm  goen  ter  Chattanoogy  ter  find  out." 

"They'll  hang  you  too,"  whined  Mrs.  Slack. 

"  Reckon  not.  I  mought  find  a  way  ter  git 
Jakey  outen  jail." 

"'N  th'  sojer  too?" 

"  Mebbe." 

"Air  y'  goen  jest's  y'  air?  " 

Souri  thought  a  while  without  replying.  She 
would  go  with  the  colored  boy,  of  course.  He 
could  show  her  the  way,  and  she  might  pass 
for  some  relative.  But  that  would  not  do.  She 
was  white  and  the  boy  was  black.  Why  not 
darken  her  face?  The  idea  was  a  good 
one. 

"  Maw,"  she  said,  "  I'm  agoen  out  ter  find 
some  berries  to  make  me  a  merlatter,"  and 
before  her  mother  could  reply,  she  was  off. 
When  she  returned,  the  negro  boy  had  finished 
his  breakfast.  She  told  him  that  she  would  be 
ready  to  go  back  with  him  in  half  an  hour. 
While  she  was  talking  to  him  he  fell  asleep. 
Then  she  thought  it  would  be  better  to  let  him 
sleep  all  day  and  travel  at  night.  Time  would 
be  lost,  but  there  would  be  less  liability  to  in 
terruption,  so  she  aroused  him  with  difficulty, 
and  conducted  him  to  an  old  sofa,  where  he  at 
once  dropped  off  again  into  slumberland. 


CHATTANOOGA.  109 

It  was  about  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
when  Souri  awakened  the  boy.  Seeing  a  mu 
latto  girl  standing  by  him  in  an  old  calico 
dress  and  a  sun  bonnet  on  her  head,  he  was 
astonished. 

"  Who  yo'  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Don't  you  know  me  ?  " 

"  Sho'  'nuff  !  " 

"  What's  yer  name  ?  " 

"  Julius." 

"  What's  yer  tother  name  ?  " 

"  Ain't  got  none  !  " 

"  I'm  goen  with  yer  t'  where  y'  started  from. 
Then  I  reckon  I'll  have  ter  go  on  alone." 

"  Ole  man  dar  ;  he  tote  y'  furder." 

"  Wai,  come  along.  Eat  a  snack  'n  then 
we'll  go." 

When  Julius  had  eaten  his  fill,  they  counted 
the  horse,  the  girl  sitting  straddle  behind  him. 
Souri,  in  a  common  calico  dress  and  a  very 
large  sun  bonnet,  looked  for  all  the  world  like 
a  negro  girl.  Julius  took  her  over  hills  innum 
erable  ;  and  at  midnight  drew  rein  near  a  large 
plantation.  There  they  both  got  down,  and 
Julius,  who  had  surreptitiously  taken  one  of  his 
master's  horses,  returned  it  to  the  stable.  Then 
he  led  the  way  to  a  row  of  negro  cabins. 
Going  to  one  of  them  he  knocked  on  the  door. 
It  was  opened  by  the  negro  with  whom  Mark 


HO  CHATTANOOGA. 

and  Jakey  had  stayed  on  the  creek  between 
the  Fains'  and  Chattanooga. 

"  Dis  de  gal,"  said  Julius. 

"  Goen  to  Chattanoogy?"  asked  the  old 
man. 

"  Reckon." 

"  I  show  yo'  de  way.     Go  righ'  off  ?  " 

"Yas." 

"  Hab  t'  foot  hit.     Ain't  got  no  horse." 

"  I  can  do  hit." 

The  negro  was  evidently  ready  and  expect 
ing  them,  for  without  going  back  into  the 
cabin  he  led  the  way  eastward. 

Souri  tramped  in  his  company  the  rest  of  the 
night,  and  at  daybreak  they  were  at  his  cabin 
on  the  creek.  There  she  took  a  few  hours' 
rest,  and  after  the  sun  was  up,  ate  a  breakfast 
which  the  old  man  prepared  for  her.  After 
this  he  set  out  to  show  her  the  way  to  Chat 
tanooga.  He  asked  no  questions.  All  he 
knew  was  that  his  efforts  were  in  "  de  cause  ob 
fredum,"  and  that  was  quite  enough.  The  old 
woman  who  had  brought  him  the  handkerchief 
had  told  him  where  her  cabin  was  in  Chatta 
nooga,  and  he  seemed  to  understand  that  he 
was  to  guide  Souri  there.  She  gave  him  some 
information  as  to  a  man  and  a  boy  at  the  jail 
in  Chattanooga.  This  was  all  he  knew. 

They  crossed  the  river  by  the  regular  ferry, 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  Ill 

having  no  trouble  in  doing  so,  for  citizens  and 
negroes  were  passing  all  the  while.  About 
ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  they  reached  the 
cabin  of  the  old  negress  who  had  started  the 
handkerchief. 

"  Fo'  de  Lo'd  !  "  exclaimed  the  woman. 
"  How'd  yo'  git  hyar  so  quick  ?" 

"  Trabel  all  night,"  said  the  pilot. 

"  Who  dat  yaller  gal  ?  " 

"  I'm  Souri  Slack.     Whar's  the  jail  ?  " 

The  woman  led  Souri  out  to  show  her  the 
way,  and  the  man  left  the  cabin  on  his  way 
homeward.  Souri  was  taken  to  a  place  where 
she  could  see  the  jail,  and  the  woman  told  her 
where  to  find  the  crack  through  which  Jakey 
had  conversed  with  her. 

Souri  went  to  the  place  alone,  and  going  to 
the  fence  hunted  till  she  found  the  crack.  She 
peeped  in,  hoping  to  see  her  brother,  but 
Jakey  was  not  there.  She  waited  an  hour  or 
more,  but  he  did  not  appear. 

"  Reckon  I'm  wastin'  time  hyar,"  she  said 
at  last.  "  I'm  goen  right  in  ter  git  round  th' 
ole  woman,  ef  there  is  one."  And  she  went  to 
the  gate  and  presented  herself  before  the  sen- 
tine]. 

"  What  d'  y'  want  ?  "  he  asked. 

Souri  didn't  know  whether  the  jailer  had  a 
wife  or  not,  but  she  hazarded  the  reply : 


1 1 2  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

"  De  jailer's  wife  tole  me  to  come  in  'n  tote 
de  washen." 

The  soldier  looked  at  her  doubtfully,  but 
suffered  her  to  pass  in. 

She  had  scarcely  entered  before  she  saw  a 
party  of  soldiers  conducting  a  man  from  the 
jail.  They  passed  near  her  and  she  recognized 
Mark.  He  was  going  to  his  trial.  He  did  not 
recognize  her,  darkened  as  she  was,  and  she 
was  too  wise  to  make  herself  known.  Jakey 
followed  his  friend  and  was  going  to  pass  out 
with  him,  but  was  stopped  by  the  guard. 

Souri  saw  tears  trickling  down  the  boy's 
cheeks  as  he  went  back  and  strolled  about  in 
the  yard.  She  longed  to  take  him  in  her 
arms,  but  did  not  dare  to  even  make  herself 
known  to  him.  She  did  not  know  where 
Mark  was  being  taken,  so  going  back  to  the 
guard  she  asked  with  apparent  idle  curiosity : 

"  Whar  dey  goen  wid  dat  man  ?  " 

"  Reckon  thur  goen  ter  try  him." 


XII. 

A  WILLING  SERVANT. 

QOURI  determined  to  attempt  to  get  service 
w  with  the  jailer's  wife.  She  hoped  that  she 
might  be  received  with  less  suspicion  while  the 
prisoner  was  away.  Besides,  she  must  com 
municate  with  her  brother  as  soon  as  possible. 

She  went  into  the  jail  and  found  a  woman, 
whose  hair  was  streaked  with  gray,  sweltering 
over  a  cooking  stove. 

"  Y'  ain't  got  no  washen,  ner  nuffin  fur  me, 
hab  y'  ?  "  said  Souri,  suddenly  appearing  before 
her. 

"No!  git  out  o'  hyar." 

"Any  cooken  ?  " 

"  Cooken.  Can  yer  cook  ?  I  don't  want  no 
nigger  ter  cook  fur  me,  but  there's  niggers  in 
the  '  black  hole,'  I  wish  I  had  some  un  ter 
cook  fur." 

"  I'll  cook  fur  'em." 

"  Who  owns  y'  ?  " 

"  I's  a  free  nigger." 

"  Wai,  I  ain't  got  no  money  ter  pay  fur  a  cook 
and  I  reckon  I'll  heve  to  sweat  it  out.  Git 
'long." 

"3 


1 14  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

"  I  don't  want  nuffin  but  somp'n  ter  eat.  I 
can  sleep  at  my  aunt's,  ober  de  hill." 

"  Wai,  take  hold  hyar  fur  a  spell.  I'm  boil- 
en."  And  she  drew  away  from  the  stove  and 
mopped  her  face. 

Souri  took  hold  and  showed  a  pleasing  apti 
tude  at  baking  corn  bread  and  boiling  some 
coarse  meat  which  simmered  in  a  pot  on  the 
stove. 

Presently  the  jailer  came  in,  and  taking  some 
of  the  food,  lifted  a  trap-door,  and  lowered  a 
meal  to  those  below  in  the  black  hole. 

"  Hyar's  a  gal,"  said  his  wife,  "  ez  hankers 
ter  do  some  cooken  fur  me." 

"  Ain't  got  nothen  ter  pay  with." 

"  Don't  won't  no  pay,"  said  Souri,  "  I's 
starven.  Want  somp'n  ter  eat." 

"Wai,  yer  won't  git  much  hyar,"  said  the 
jailer,  "  but  I  reckon  it's  good  enuff  fur 
niggers." 

So  Souri  was  allowed  to  help,  but  there  was 
no  understanding  that  her  services  should  ex 
tend  beyond  the  present  moment. 

She  was  leaning  over  the  stove  when  Mark 
was  brought  back.  He  had  just  been  sen 
tenced,  and  there  was  a  haggard,  hopeless  look 
on  his  face,  as  he  passed  the  girl  without 
noticing  her.  He  was  put  in  his  room  and  it 
was  hard  for  Souri  to  keep  from  following  to 


CHATTANOOGA.  11$ 

tell  him  of  her  coming.  Jakey  came  in  with 
the  party  and  went  with  Mark  into  his 
room. 

In  the  afternoon  Souri  saw  that  she  must 
make  work  for  herself,  or  there  would  be  no 
excuse  for  her  to  stay  about  the  place.  So 
without  saying  a  word  she  took  a  pail  of  water 
and  a  scrubbing  brush  and  began  to  scrub  the 
floor.  Then  she  suggested  to  Mrs.  Triggs 
that  she  sweep  her  bedroom.  The  woman 
concluded  that,  as  it  had  not  been  swept  for 
more  than  a  month,  Souri  "  mought's  well " 
do  it,  especially  as  the  girl  seemed  to  be  willing 
to  do  all  this  work  for  a  little  boiled  meat  and 
corn  bread. 

"  Yo'  don'  look  right  smart,  Miss  Triggs," 
said  Souri,  after  cooking  the  supper  and  eat 
ing  her  share,  "  'n  I  don'  know  whar  I  gwine  t' 
git  any  breakfast  less  I  come  'n  cook  fur  y'.  " 

Mrs.  Triggs  succeeded  in  getting  her  hus 
band's  consent  to  Souri  coming  back  in  the 
morning,  and  the  man  went  out  to  the  gate 
with  her  and  told  her  if  the  guard  did  not  pass 
her  in  to  send  for  him. 

She  was  at  the  jail  bright  and  early  and  got 
in  on  telling  the  sentinel  that  she  was  Mrs. 
Tri'crcr's  servant.  She  cooked  the  breakfast,  and 

o  o 

when  she  saw  Triggs  about  to  carry  Mark's 
meat  and  corn  bread  in  to  him  she  offered  to 


Ii6  CHATTANOOGA. 

do  it,  but  Triggs  paid  no  attention  to  the 
offer  and  carried  it  in  himself. 

Then  she  asked  Mrs.  Triggs  when  she  did 
her  washing,  and  as  the  old  woman  had  no  reg 
ular  time  and  not  many  clothes,  Souri  offered 
to  do  what  there  was.  When  she  went  out  to 
hang  up  the  clothes  to  dry  Jakey  was  in  the 
yard.  She  called  him  to  her  and  in  a  whisper 
made  herself  known.  Jakey,  who  was  wonder 
ing  what  had  become  of  the  message  he  had 
sent  was  both  overjoyed  and  astonished.  He 
turned  two  or  three  summersaults  on  the 
ground,  and  otherwise  demonstrated  his  child 
ishness  to  Mrs.  Triggs,  who  at  that  moment 
appeared  at  a  window,  but  not  before  Souri 
had  told  Jakey  to  inform  Mark  of  her  presence, 
and  that  she  would  try  to  get  into  his  room  as 
soon  as  she  could  be  intrusted  with  a  meal  for 
him. 

Again  at  noon  she  offered  to  take  in  his  din 
ner  but  without  success.  She  was  at  her  wits' 
ends  for  an  excuse  to  stay  about  till  supper 
time,  but  thinking  that  Mrs.  Trigg's  wardrobe- 
might  need  mending  she  offered  to  undertake 
the  task,  and  spent  the  afternoon  over  the  old 
woman's  threadbare  garments. 

All  this  while  Souri  was  thinking  of  a  plan 
for  Mark's  escape.  She  learned  that  he  was  to 
be  hanged  in  a  few  days,  and  knew  there  was 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  117 

little  time.  The  most  natural  plan  -under  the 
circumstances  occurred  to  her, — a  plan  by 
which  more  prisoners  have  made  their  escape 
than  any  other  one  method, — walking  out 
before  the  guard  in  women's  clothes.  Souri 
determined,  if  she  could  secure  an  entrance  into 
Mark's  room  at  any  time  after  dark,  she  would 
give  him  her  dress  and  sun  bonnet  and  leave 
him  to  make  an  attempt.  Then  she  began  to 
think  over  a  plan  to  gain  an  entrance  at  a 
specified  time. 

In  the  evening  her  patience  was  rewarded. 
Mark's  supper  was  standing  on  the  stove. 
Triggs  was  not  in  the  jail  and  Mrs.  Triggs 
went  down  the  stairs  outside  to  get  something 
she  wanted  in  the  yard. 

Souri  caught  up  the  supper  and  walked 
straight  past  the  guard  into  Mark's  room  with 
it.  Mark,  who  had  been  informed  of  her  com 
ing  by  Jakey,  was  expecting  her.  When  he 
saw  the  mulatto  girl  he  grasped  her  hand. 

"  Souri  !  God  bless  you  !  "  he  said  in  a  low 
tone. 

"  I  ain't  got  no  time  ter  talk.  I'm  watchin' 
fur  a  chance  ter  give  yer  my  clothes  ter  go  out 
with." 

"  But  what  would  you  and  Jakey  do  ?  "  he 
asked  hurriedly. 

"  Th'  ain't  goen  ter  hang  a  boy  or  a  gal. 


Il8  CHATTANOOGA. 

Pertend  ter  be  sick  ter-morrer  'n  ask  fur  some 
medicine.  Mebbe  they'll  send  me  ter  git  it." 

With  that  she  went  out.  When  Mrs.  Triggs 
came  in  she  was  bending  over  the  stove. 

"  Whar's  the  Yank's  supper  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  't\var  gitten  cold  'n  I  toted  hit  in  ter 
him." 

Souri  made  herself  so  useful  that  she  was 
permitted  to  stay  about  the  jail  the  next  day. 
She  managed  to  keep  an  indifferent  mien  to 
all  about  her,  but  within  there  was  a  tempest. 
The  next  morning  Mark  was  to  swing,  and 
preparations  were  being  made  for  the  purpose. 
"  If  there  war  only  time,"  thought  Souri,  "  I 
mought  help  him  away,  but  to-morrer!"  and 
no  one  being  near  to  see  her  she  wrung  her 
hands.  There  seemed  but  little  chance  that, 
having  only  one  evening  to  effect  her  plans, 
she  would  succeed.  It  could  only  be  by  good 
luck. 

In  the  afternoon  Mark  began  to  moan. 
Triggs  went  in  to  see  him  and  asked  what  was 
the  matter.  Mark  told  him  that  he  was  ill. 
As  the  afternoon  wore  away  the  prisoner 
groaned  and  moaned  till  Triggs  went  back  to 
him,  and  Mark  told  him  that  he  thought  he 
was  going  to  die.  Mrs.  Triggs  carried  in  his 
supper,  but  he  refused  to  eat. 

"  What  yer  got  ?  "  she  asked. 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  119 

"Cholera,  I  reckon." 

"Good  Lord!  " 

"  I  want  some  medicine,"  said  Mark.  "  If 
you'll  send  the  black  girl  for  it  I'll  pay  you  and 
her  well." 

"  Y'  ain't  got  no  money." 

"  Yes,  I  have,  but  you  don't  know  whar  it  is." 

Mrs.  Triggs  reported  the  matter  to  her  hus 
band,  who,  fearing  that  the  prisoner  would  not 
be  in  condition  for  the  hanging  which  was  to 
occur  the  next  morning,  consented.  Mark 
was  furnished  with  a  scrap  of  paper  and  a  pen 
and  wrote  the  name  of  a  mixture  he  remem 
bered  for  cholera  morbus.  Triggs  told  Souri 
to  warn  the  druggist  not  to  send  poison,  for  he 
feared  Mark  might  be  intending  to  make  way 
with  himself  to  escape  the  gallows.  She  was 
furnished  with  money  extracted  from  Jakey's 
boot,  and  hurried  to  town. 

When  she  came  back  it  was  quite  dark. 
Only  a  faint  line  of  light  was  left  in  the  west. 
As  she  entered  she  met  Triggs  going  out  of 
the  gate.  She  quickly  mounted  the  staircase 
with  her  heart  in  her  throat.  As  soon  as  she 
entered  the  building  she  saw  that  Mrs.  Triggs 
was  not  there ;  she  was  in  her  room.  Souri 
went  on  tiptoe  to  Mrs.  Triggs'  door  and  looked 
in.  The  woman  was  sitting  on  a  chair  by  the 
window,  waiting  her  return.  Souri  went  as 


120  CHATTANOOGA. 

quickly  as  she  could  go  without  being  heard 
to  the  prisoner's  room. 

"  Medicine,"  she  said  to  the  guard,  and 
passed  in  without  waiting  permission,  leaving 
the  door  partly  closed  behind  her. 

"  Here,  quick  !  A  burnt  cork.  Rub  "t  on  yer 
face,"  she  whispered. 

Mark  seized  the  cork  and  applied  it.  Souri 
stood  in  the  corner  with  her  back  to  him,  and 
taking  off  her  dress  threw  it  to  him.  Mark 
took  off  his  outer  clothes  and  threw  them  to 
her.  Each  put  on  the  other's  garments,  Mark 
inclosing  his  head  in  the  sun  bonnet. 

Looking  the  gratitude  he  did  not  dare  to 
speak ;  pressing  her  hand  and  carrying  it  to 
his  lips,  Mark  passed  out. 

The  guard  wondered  why  Souri  looked  so 
tall  and  strapping. 

Going  out  of  the  door  and  down  the  stairs 
Mark  went  to  the  gate,  and  walked  by  the 
sentinel  posted  there,  as  Souri  had  often  done. 

The  guard  also  noticed  how  tall  she  looked, 
and  called  to  her;  but  by  this  time  Mark  was 
well  out  of  his  reach  and  pretended  not  to 
hear.  The  sentinel,  not  thinking  it  worth  while 
to  follow  and  leave  his  post  unprotected,  let 
him  go  and  thought  no  more  about  the  matter. 


XIII. 

FLOATING   FOR   LIFE. 

MARK  had  very  little  idea  how  long  a  time 
would  elapse  before  it  would  be  discovered 
that  Souri  was  in  his  place  and  he  had  escaped. 
It  might  be  a  few  minutes  :  it  might  be  half  an 
hour:  it  might  possibly  be  not  till  morning; 
though  of  this  he  had  little  hope.  He  believed 
that  within  half  an  hour  he  would  be  pursued, 
and  as  he  was  well  acquainted  with  the  methods 
in  vogue  in  the  South  at  the  time,  he  knew  he 
would  be  traced  by  bloodhounds. 

He  had  been  about  the  town  enough  to 
know  the  direction  of  the  river,  and  started 
toward  it.  During  the  day  he  had  thought 
over  what  he  would  do  in  case  Souri's  ruse 
should  be  successful,  and  made  up  his  mind 
that  any  delay  in  getting  across  the  river  would 
be  fatal.  He  was  at  home  in  the  water,  and 
determined  that  he  would  not  attempt  to  find 
a  boat,  but  would  plunge  in  and  swim  for  his 
life.  The  width  of  the  river  at  Chattanooga 
was  only  about  three-quarters  of  a  mile,  and 
Mark  did  not  regard  this  a  great  distance  for 
a  good  swimmer.  Once  across,  the  dogs  would 


1 2 2  CHA  TTANOOGA . 

have  to  pick  up  the  scent  on  the  other  side, 
and  if  he  should  permit  the  current  to  carry 
him  far  down  the  stream,  the  difficulty  in  doing 
so  would  be  greatly  increased. 

Though  Mark  had  been  in  prison  but  a  few 
days,  the  transition  from  duress  to  freedom 
was  very  grateful.  It  was  a  soft  summer  even 
ing  and  the  larger  stars  had  already  begun  to 
shine.  Casting  a  glance  to  the  right  he  saw  a 
streak  of  light  over  Missionary  Ridge,  and 
knew  that  before  long  he  would  be  at  a  dis 
advantage  from  the  rising  of  a  full  moon.  He 
walked  briskly  whenever  any  person  was  in 
sight,  and  when  he  thought  that  he  was  unob 
served  he  ran.  When  he  first  left  the  jail  yard 
his  heart  was  in  his  throat.  His  agitation 
diminished  as  he  proceeded,  and  in  five  minutes 
he  had  come  down  like  one  in  a  race  to  a  con 
centration  of  all  his  faculties — a  gathering  of 
all  his  forces  for  the  struggle  between  life  and 
death  before  him.  With  these  well  in  hand, 
the  dreaded  scene  of  the  morrow  acted  as  a 
tremendous  and  effective  stimulant. 

No  one  of  the  few  people  who  passed  the 
strapping  negro  girl,  whose  face  was  hidden 
within  the  blue  check  sun  bonnet,  dreamed  that 
a  Union  soldier  was  passing;  that  the  scaffold 
was  being  cheated  ;  that  a  messenger  with  the 
secret  of  one  of  the  most  important  moves  any 


CHATTANOOGA.  123 

Confederate  general  had  made  or  was  destined 
to  make  during  the  war  was  on  his  way  North, 
in  the  person  of  the  negro  woman  hurrying  on 
toward  the  river.  And  it  was  fortunate  for  the 
flying  soldier  they  did  not,  or  he  would  never 
even  have  got  half  a  mile  from  the  jail. 

He  sped  onward,  running  and  walking  briskly 
alternately,  till  he  came  to  a  place  where  a 
board  fence  was  capped  by  a  narrow  strip.  He 
mounted  it  and  walked  as  far  as  the  fence  ex 
tended,  perhaps  a  hundred  yards,  hoping  by 
this  means  to  throw  the  dogs  off  the  scent  for 
a  few  minutes  and  thus  gain  a  little  time.  Then 
he  jumped  down  and  hurried  forward.  A  man 
passed  and  called  to  him  ;  but  he  paid  no  at 
tention  to  the  call,  and  the  man  stood  looking 
after  him,  doubtless  suspecting  that  the  girl  was 
a  runaway  slave. 

At  last  the  grateful  sight  of  the  river  met  his 
gaze.  It  cheered  him,  and  seemed  to  beckon 
him  on  to  rest  upon  its  bosom,  or,  as  an  alter 
native  with  the  dreadful  tragedy  of  the  morn 
ing,  to  find  oblivion  beneath  its  surface. 
Between  the  river  before  him,  and  the  jail,  the 
dogs,  the  gibbet,  for  a  time  his  feelings  of  hope 
and  fear  neutralized  each  other  and  left  his 
faculties  free  to  act  with  perfect  coolness. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  beneath  a  low  clump 
of  trees  on  the  bank,  listening  and  looking  up 


1 2  4  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

and  down  the  river.  A  boat  was  passing  and 
he  felt  it  necessary  to  wait  for  it  to  go  by.  He 
lost  five  minutes,  but  it  seemed  half  an  hour. 
Then  taking  off  his  dress,  and  shoes,  and  bon 
net,  he  put  the  dress  and  the  shoes  in  the  bon 
net  and  tied  the  strings  around  his  neck,  rest 
ing  the  bundle  on  his  back.  Going  down  to 
the  margin,  and  again  listening  a  moment  to 
make  sure  he  was  not  observed,  he  waded  out 
as  far  as  he  could  touch  bottom  and  then  be 
gan  to  swim. 

As  it  was  midsummer,  he  had  expected  to 
find  the  water  warm.  His  expectations  were 
realized  to  a  reasonable  degree,  and  he  felt 
that  he  could  remain  in  it  a  long  while  without 
being  chilled.  His  plan  was  to  drift  down  a 
considerable  distance.  He  might  be  expected 
to  swim  across  as  rapidly  as  he  could,  and  the 
current,  in  this  case,  would  land  him  perhaps  a 
mile  below  the  town.  Those  who  would  fol 
low  him  with  dogs  would  doubtless  track  him 
to  the  river  margin,  then  take  the  dogs  across 
and  endeavor  to  pick  up  the  scent  some  dis 
tance  below  on  the  other  side.  Mark  had 
weighed  all  these  circumstances,  and  deter 
mined  to  drift  down  as  far  as  possible,  land  at 
the  mouth  of  a  creek  if  he  could  find  one,  enter 
it,  and  swim  or  walk  up  it  in  the  water,  thus  ren 
dering  it  difficult  for  the  dogs  to  track  him. 


CHATTANOOGA.  12$ 

He  swam  slowly  till  he  reached  the  middle 
of  the  river,  then  floating  with  scarcely  any 
motion  of  his  hands  and  feet,  he  permitted 
himself  to  drift  down  with  the  current.  A 
favorite  way  with  him,  when  a  boy,  of  resting 
in  the  water,  had  been  to  float  on  his  back. 
Unmindful  of  the  wetting  he  would  give  the 
clothes  tied  around  his  neck,  he  turned  over 
and  drifted  with  his  arms  spread  beside  him, 
his  eyes  turned  directly  to  the  sky. 

It  may  seem  singular  that  a  man  who  was 
being  carried  from  so  dreadful  a  death  should 
have  thought  of  anything  else.  But  Mark  did 
not  want  to  think  of  it.  He  had  never  been 
unnerved  except  after  his  sentence,  with  an  al 
most  certain  execution  before  him,  and  felt  it 
best  to  let  his  mind  drift  into  other  channels. 
Then,  danger  is  not,  and  was  not  especially  with 
Mark,  to  be  compared  with  certain  destruction. 
The  soldier  on  the  field  of  battle  is  a  different 
man  from  one  who  awaits  the  bullets  of  a  file 
of  soldiers,  drawn  up  in  line  to  take  his  life  de 
liberately.  Mark  was  a  changed  man  from  the 
moment  he  got  into  the  river,  for  he  then  felt 
that  he  had  a  chance  for  his  life. 

In  the  position  on  his  back  he  could  only 
look  upward  at  the  stars.  There  was  the  great 
dome  above  him  spangled  with  myriads  of 
bright  points  and  spanned  by  the  "  milky  way." 


126  CHATTANOOGA. 

He  had  always  been  fond  of  the  stars,  and  in 
order  to  divert  his  mind,  picked  out  some  of 
his  favorites,  and  traced  a  few  constellations 
with  which  he  was  familiar.  In  this  way  he 
diverted  his  mind  until  his  nerves  became 
quite  steady. 

His  observations  were  suddenly  checked  by 
a  sound.  It  was  very  faint,  but  enough  to 
freeze  the  marrow  in  his  bones.  It  was  the  dis 
tant  bark  of  a  dog.  He  listened  and  presently 
could  hear  more.  Evidently  there  were  a  pack. 
They  drew  nearer.  Then  they  ceased  for  a 
while.  Perhaps  they  had  come  to  the  place 
where  he  had  walked  on  the  fence.  Then  the 
barks  began  again,  growing  only  slightly  louder 
as  they  came,  for  Mark  was  floating  rapidly 
from  the  point  where  he  had  entered  the 
river. 

He  involuntarily  turned  over  on  his  chest 
and  struck  out  lustily.  The  current  was  swift; 
swimming  would  not  add  to  his  safety;  it  would 
only  tax  his  strength  and  render  him  more 
liable  to  recapture  on  the  other  shore.  But 
swim  he  must.  With  the  terrible  sound  of 
those  dogs  in  his  ears  he  could  not  lie  idly  on 
the  water  and  leave  the  current  to  bear  him 
onward. 

Soon  there  came  another  cessation  of  sound 
from  the  dogs  far  above  on  the  shore,  and 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  12? 

Mark  judged  that  they  had  lost  the  scent  at 
the  place  where  he  had  entered  the  water. 

Then  he  began  to  think  of  Souri  and  Jakey. 
What  had  they  done  to  Souri  when  they  had 
discovered  her  trick  ?  Would  they  punish  her  ? 
Would  they  treat  the  boy  harshly?  He  was 
comforted  with  the  thought  that  there  would 
be  nothing  gained  by  this  ;  it  would  not  bring 
the  prisoner  back  ;  but  he  muttered  a  prayer 
for  the  girl  who  had  placed  herself  behind  those 
prison  bars,  who  had  incurred  the  rage  of  his 
jailers  to  save  him. 

He  heard  no  more  of  the  dogs,  and  floated 
on,  swimming  and  resting  alternately.  The 
high  bluffs  of  Moccasin  Point  were  before  him 
on  his  right.  An  owl  on  their  summit,  watch 
ing  the  rising  moon,  occasionally  gave  a  dismal 
hoot,  the  intervals  being  supplied  by  the  mel 
ancholy  whippoorwill.  The  current  bore  him 
on  around  the  point,  carrying  him  in  near  the 
shore  where  he  had  passed  the  picket  with  the 
sleeping  Jakey  in  his  arms,  a  few  nights  before. 
So  close  was  he  that  he  could  see  a  man  walk 
ing  back  and  forth  on  the  very  beat  of  the  one 
he  had  passed.  As  he  drifted  away  he  saw  the 
relief  approach  and  the  picket  changed. 

He  was  borne  directly  under  Lookout  Moun 
tain,  and  on  down  for  a  mile,  to  a  point  where 
the  river  makes  another  bend.  Here  the  bank 


128  CHATTANOOGA, 

was  low,  and  as  Mark  was  getting  chilled,  he 
swam  to  the  southern  bank  for  a  rest.  He 
laid  himself  down  for  a  few  moments  on  the 
dry  ground,  and  then  getting  up,  walked  back 
and  forth  rapidly,  swinging  his  arms  at  the 
same  time^to  restore  circulation  and  fit  him  to 
endure  a  longer  stay  in  the  water.  He  looked 
about  for  some  piece  of  wood  on  which  he 
might  float  further.  There  were  logs  of  various 
sizes  scattered  around,  but  most  of  them  were 
rotten.  He  was  so  much  at  home  in  the  water 
that  he  was  not  disappointed  on  failing  to  find 
one  suitable  to  his  purpose. 

Plunging  in  again  he  moved  on  down  past 
the  bluffs  at  the  foot  of  the  Racoon  Mountains, 
swimming  on  his  chest  most  of  the  time,  and 
keeping  a  lookout  before  him.  He  had  not 
passed  any  boats,  at  least  none  near  him,  and 
did  not  fear  this  danger,  but  he  wanted  to  keep 
his  surroundings  well  in  view  in  order  to  know 
his  location.  The  moon  was  now  well  up,  and 
he  could  see  quite  distinctly.  Below  and  to 
his  right  a  boat  was  putting  out  from  the  east 
shore.  It  was  larger  than  an  ordinary  skiff, 
but  as  it  was  in  a  shadow  he  could  not  tell 
what  kind  of  a  craft  it  was.  As  it  came  over 
the  river  at  right  angles  with  the  shore 
and  Mark  was  drifting  toward  it,  he  soon 
found  that  he  was  in  danger  of  meeting  it  in 


CffATTAMOOGA.  129 

the  middle  of  the  stream.  The  current  was 
quite  rapid,  and  before  he  was  aware  of  it  he 
was  close  on  to  the  boat.  It  was  evidently  a 
ferry-boat,  and  Mark,  who  knew  the  location 
of  Brown's  Ferry  from  the  maps,  judged  that 
it  was  the  boat  belonging  there. 

But  Mark  was  concerned  with  other  consid 
erations  besides  his  location  just  then.  He 
was  too  late  to  get  out  of  the  way  unobserved 
by  swimming  aside.  He  made  up  his  mind  in 
a  twinkling  what  to  do.  Drawing  several  long 
breaths  he  filled  his  lungs  with  air,  and  then 
putting  his  head  down  and  his  feet  up  he  threw 
himself  under  water.  He  had  often  been  be 
neath  the  surface  for  a  considerable  time,  but 
never  as  long  as  now.  He  remained  under  as 
long  as  he  thought  he  possibly  could,  and 
then  stayed  a  while  longer.  When  he  came  to 
light  again,  the  boat  was  a  hundred  yards  above 
him  and  to  the  west  of  him. 

Another  mile  brought  him  to  an  island. 
He  remembered  it  on  his  map  as  William's 
Island,  and  knew  that  it  was  about  two  miles 
long.  He  recalled  the  fact  that  the  only  creek 
flowing  into  the  river  in  this  vicinity  entered  it 
midway  between  the  north  and  south  end  of  this 
island,  and  on  his  right,  if  he  remembered 
aright.  He  had  about  a  mile  to  goto  reach  the 
mouth  of  this  creek. 


1 3°  CHA  TTAHOOGA. 

Striking  out  he  directed  his  course  to  the 
eastward  of  the  island,  and  swam  very  near  to 
the  east  bank  of  the  river.  Along  this  he 
floated  with  scarcely  a  stroke  except  to  keep 
in  close  to  the  shore,  watching  eagerly  for  the 
mouth  of  the  creek.  Fortunately  when  he 
reached  it  he  discovered  it,  and  where  he  had 
supposed  he  would  find  it.  With  a  few  lusty 
strokes  he  was  in  it  and  soon  at  a  place  where 
he  could  rest  in  the  water  with  his  feet  on 
terra  fir  ma. 

But  the  knowledge  that  the  dogs  would  soon 
be  upon  him  prevented  a  rest  of  long  duration. 
Perhaps  a  party  would  cross  the  neck  of  Mocca 
sin  Point,  thus  cutting  off  a  greater  part  of 
the  long  distance  over  which  he  had  floated. 
The  thought  added  new  terror,  and  he  began  to 
wade  and  to  swim  alternately,  as  was  necessary, 
up  the  creek.  Presently  he  came  to  the  cross 
ing  of  a  road.  He  drew  himself  up  on  to  it 
and  looked  around.  As  a  scout  he  had  long 
been  accustomed  to  keep  his  mind  fixed  on 
points  along  the  paths  he  traveled,  in  order 
that  he  might  know  them  again.  As  soon  as 
he  saw  the  little  bridge — :if  it  could  be  called  a 
bridge — he  knew  that  he  was  on  the  Chatta 
nooga  pike,  over  which  he  had  passed  a  few 
days  before,  and  at  the  junction  of  the  creek 
running  near  the  Fains'  plantation. 


CHATTANOOGA.  131 

Mark  had  not  considered  what  he  would  do 
in  case  he  should  succeed  in  getting  safely 
across  the  river.  While  in  jail,  he  felt  that  once 
out  and  across  the  Tennessee,  he  would  feel 
assured  of  safety.  Now  this  had  been  accom 
plished,  he  began  to  realize  that  but  half  the 
battle  had  been  won.  Indeed,  there  were  more 
chances  that  he  would  be  retaken  than  that  he 
would  ever  reach  the  Union  lines. 

He  wrung  the  water  from  his  clothes  and 
put  them  on,  shielding  his  face  with  his  sun- 
bonnet  ;  for  though  he  had  no  mirror  to  inspect 
his  features,  he  fancied  they  must  be  streaked 
with  burnt  cork  softened  by  water.  Then  set 
ting  out  toward  the  Fain  plantation,  he  delib 
erated  what  he  should  do. 

It  was  now  between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock 
— so  Mark  judged  by  the  moon  being  nearly 
on  the  meridian — and  he  knew  that  all  the 
Fains  were  asleep.  He  reached  the  corner  of 
the  yard  and  was  about  to  enter  it  when  he 
heard  a  clattering  of  hoofs  behind  him.  He 
had  hardly  time  to  vault  the  fence  and  crouch 
behind  it  when  a  troop  of  horsemen  crossed 
the  bridge  over  the  creek.  They  drew  rein  on 
the  hither  side,  not  a  hundred  yards  away  from 
him.  Mark  heard  a  voice : 

"  Lieutenant,  take  ten   men   and   scour  the 


i  3  *  CffA  TTANOOGA . 

bank  of  the  river  from  this  on  to  the  next 
creek,  where  I  will  make  another  detail." 

The  lieutenant,  with  his  men,  broke  away 
from  the  column,  which  moved  forward,  passing 
within  fifty  feet  of  where  Mark  lay  crouching. 

Mark  was  for  a  few  moments  so  completely 
overcome  by  the  narrowness  of  his  escape  that 
he  seemed  to  have  no  power  to  move.  If  he 
had  been  five  minutes  later,  his  capture  would 
have  been  almost  certain  ;  for  they  would  likely 
have  discovered  him  between  the  road  and 
the  river,  which  space  they  were  evidently  in 
tending  to  scour. 

He  got  up,  and  getting  on  the  outside  of  the 
fence,  walked  beside  a  portion  of  it  which  led 
back  from  the  road,  designing  to  enter  the 
negro  quarters  in  the  rear.  He  feared  that 
dogs  were  loose  in  the  yard  and  that  he  would 
have  trouble  with  them ;  he  therefore  stole 
along  till  he  came  to  the  nearest  point  to  one 
of  the  negro  cabins.  A  dog  sleeping  in  the 
moonlight  near  the  house  gave  a  low  moan. 
Mark  paused  a  moment  and  listened ;  then  en 
tering  the  grounds  he  walked  in  a  stooping 
posture,  keeping  one  of  the  cabins  between  him 
and  the  dog.  He  wanted  to  reach  the  rear  door. 

Mark  felt  assured  that  unless  he  could  be 
concealed  in  some  place  where  searchers  would 
not  be  likely  to  intrude,  he  would  be  lost.  He 


CHATTANOOGA.  »33 

well  knew  that  every  foot  of  ground  within 
five  or  ten  miles  of  Chattanooga  would  be  alive 
with  people  hunting  for  him.  The  negro  cabins 
would  not  be  safe,  for  no  searching  party  would 
respect  them.  There  was  but  one  chance  for 
him ;  he  must  effect  an  entrance  into  the  Fain 
house ;  and  that  with  the  knowledge,  as  to  his 
true  character,  of  but  one  person — Laura  Fain. 

He  reached  the  negro  cabin  and  knocked. 

"Who  dar?" 

"  Whar  Uncle  Dan'l  sleep  ?  " 

"  Nex  to  de  lef." 

Mark  went  as  directed  and  called  up  Uncle 
Daniel.  He  heard  a  movement  as  of  some  one 
getting  up,  and  presently  the  old  man  stood  at 
the  open  door. 

"  Uncle,  I'se  got  a  message  fo'  yo'  young  mis 
tress." 

"Who  from?" 

"  De  po'  white  man  what  war  hyar  las'  week 
wid  he  leetle  brudder." 

"Nice  man,  dat ;  hab  he  got  in  trouble?" 

"  Nebber  mine  dat,  uncle ;  go  in  de  house 
'n  wake  up  Missie  Laura." 

"  Ain't  got  no  key." 

"  Cain't  yo'  wake  up  some  one  inside?  " 

"  Why  don'  yo'  wait  till  mornen  ?  " 

"  Cain't  do  dat  no  how.  De  message  mus' 
be  giben  at  once." 


134  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  Wai,"  said  Dan'l  at  last,  "  I  do  what  I  can 
fo'  dat  man  ;  he  berry  fine  gentleman  ef  he  war 
po'  white." 

Mark  followed  the  old  man  to  the  rear  door 
of  the  basement.  On  the  way  a  huge  dog 
bounded  at  them,  but  seeing  Daniel,  his  fierce 
ness  ended  in  play.  Daniel  succeeded  in  wak 
ing  a  negro  woman  who  slept  within  ;  the  door 
was  opened  and  they  stepped  inside. 

"  Go  tell  Missie  Laura  a  culled  gal  want  to 
speak  to  her  right  off.  Say  she  got  message 
from  de  man  what  war  hyar  wid  he  leetle  brud- 
der,"  said  Daniel. 

"At  dis  time  o'  night?" 

"  Yas  ;  de  message  muss  be  deiibered  right 
away,"  said  Mark.  "  Don'  wake  no  one  but 
Missie  Laura.  Tread  sofly." 

The  woman  lighted  a  candle,  and  went  off 
with  it  grumbling,  leaving  Mark  and  Daniel 
in  the  dark.  They  waited  for  perhaps  ten  min 
utes,  when  they  heard  steps  and  saw  the  light 
returning.  The  negro  woman  was  followed  by 
Laura  Fain,  dressed  in  a  wrapper.  She  knew 
Mark  from  the  moment  she  saw  him,  but  pre 
tended  only  to  see  a  negro  girl. 

"  Hab  message  fur  yo',  Missie  Laura,  but 
cain't  tell  it  to  yo'  widout  dese  niggers  git  away." 

"  Come  with  me." 

She  took  the  candle  and  led  the  way  to  the 


CHATTANOOGA.  135 

dining-room  above,  leaving  the  two  colored 
people  below.  Then  she  turned  to  Mark  : 

"  Why  in  heaven's  name  did  you  come  back 
here  ?  " 

"  It  was  a  choice  between  life  and  death.  I 
escaped  this  evening  from  Chattanooga,  where 
I  was  to  be  hanged  to-morrow  morning.  Every 
place  of  concealment  on  this  side  of  the  river 
will  be  entered  and  searched.  If  concealed  in 
this  house,  occupied  by  a  family  of  white 
people  and  Confederates,  I  may  not  be  found. 
Otherwise  my  recapture  is  certain." 

She  thought  a  moment,  rubbing  her  palms 
together,  as  was  her  habit  when  excited.  Then 
she  called  to  the  servants  below  : 

"  Go  to  bed,  Uncle  Daniel,  and  you,  too, 
Auntie.  This  girl  is  worn  out  with  traveling, 
and  I  am  going  to  fix  a  place  for  her  to  sleep." 

Then  turning  to  Mark,  she  motioned  him  to 
follow  her. 

They  went  up  two  flights  of  stairs,  stepping 
on  tiptoe,  and  at  last  reached  a  landing  from 
which  a  pair  of  steps  led  to  a  trap-door. 

"  Go  up  there,"  she  whispered. 

Mark  climbed  the  stairs,  pushed  the  trap 
open,  and  entered  the  inclosure  of  the  roof. 
Before  lowering  the  door,  he  looked  back  to 
whisper  a  "  God  bless  you,"  but  all  was  dark. 
Laura  had  gone. 


XIV. 

MARK'S  KEEPER. 

MARK  stood  for  a  moment  looking  about 
him.  There  were  dormer  windows  which 
let  in  the  moonlight  so  that  he  could  distinctly 
see  everything  in  the  room.  Some  trunks  were 
piled  in  one  corner,  and  in  another  some  fur 
niture.  Among  the  latter  he  noticed  a  lounge 
with  threadbare  upholstery,  and  taking  it  in  his 
arms,  carried  it,  treading  softly,  to  one  of  the 
windows  at  the  front  of  the  house.  The  room 
was  very  hot,  and  he  raised  the  sash,  moving 
it  with  great  care  so  as  not  to  make  any  sound. 
Then  he  sat  down  on  the  lounge,  and  looking 
out  of  the  window,  began  to  meditate  on  his 
situation. 

While  thus  engaged  he  heard  a  light  tap  at 
the  trap-door.  Opening  it,  he  saw  a  bundle  ex 
tended  by  the  fair  hand  of  his  preserver.  He 
took  it  and  letting  down  the  trap — Miss  Fain 
did  not  utter  a  word — he  unrolled  it.  There 
were  complete  suits  of  under  and  outer  gar 
ments  ;  the  property  of  Miss  Pain's  brother. 

The  getting  off  of  his  damp  garments  and 
136 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  137 

donning  snow-white  linen  was  a  grateful  sensa 
tion  to  Mark.  Having  put  on  what  he  needed 
for  the  night  he  laid  himself  down  on  the  lounge. 
From  his  window  he  could  see  the  Tennessee 
rolling  in  the  moonlight,  half  a  mile  away.  He 
thought  how  much  more  comfortable  he  was  in 
his  dry  clothes  than  he  had  been  floating  in  the 
water.  Then  he  heard  the  bark  of  hounds. 
They  were  on  the  water's  edge,  and  he  knew, 
by  the  sounds,  that  they  were  endeavoring  to 
pick  up  the  scent  of  his  tracks. 

"  Bark  on,"  he  said.  "  When  I  leave  this  I'll 
take  with  me  something  to  die  with.  I'll  not 
be  taken  alive  ;  and  if  I  meet  you,  some  of  you 
shall  roll  over." 

Then  there  came  an  inexpressible  gratitude. 
He  felt  thankful  to  Souri,  thankful  to  Jakey, 
thankful  to  Laura  Fain,  thankful  to  his  God. 
There  was  something  especially  engaging  in  Miss 
Pain's  efforts  on  his  behalf,  inasmuch  as  she  re 
garded  him  an  enemy  to  her  country.  He 
thought  of  Souri  in  prison,  waiting  for  old 
Triggs  to  discover  her  deception.  What  would 
they  do  to  her?  And  Jakey?  Would  they 
injure  a  mere  boy  ?  He  vowed  that  if  he  should 
escape  and  outlive  the  war  he  would  find  out 
just  what  had  happened  ;  and  if  either  had  been 
harshly  treated,  he  would  have  his  revenge. 

Musing  he  fell  asleep,  but  he  soon  awoke. 


I38  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

It  was  past  midnight.  The  day  of  his  execu 
tion.  He  shuddered. 

He  tried  to  go  to  sleep  again,  but  the  dread 
ful  fate  which  would  have  been  his  had  not 
Souri  saved  him,  and  on  the  very  last  evening 
before  his  intended  execution,  got  into  his 
head,  and  he  could  not  drive  it  out.  And  now, 
were  not  men  and  hounds  hunting  him  for 
miles  around,  to  drag  him  back  to  Chattanooga 
to  that  dreadful  jail  yard,  the  scaffold,  the  rope, 
the  black  cap  ? 

And  Laura  Fain,  suppose  she  should  weaken  ; 
suppose  she  should,  after  all,  consider  it  her 
duty  to  give  him  up.  Suppose  a  demand 
should  be  made  to  search  the  house.  Suppose 
— a  thousand  suppositions  chased  each  other 
through  his  excited  brain. 

He  lay  tossing  till  just  before  dawn,  when 
he  again  fell  into  a  troubled  slumber. 

He  was  awakened  by  a  squadron  of  cavalry 
passing  along  the  road.  The  sun  had  not  yet 
risen,  but  it  was  light.  He  could  look  right 
down  on  them,  though  they  could  not  see  him. 
They  trotted  along  slowly,  all  looking  worn 
and  sleepy.  They  were  evidently  the  men 
who  had  passed  the  night  before  and  were 
going  back  from  an  unsuccessful  hunt.  Mark 
noticed  the  different  positions  many  of  them 
took  in  order  to  rest  in  their  saddles.  The 


CHATTANOOGA.  139 

sight  took  him  back  to  his  own  troop  and  he 
longed  to  be  in  the  stirrups  again  with  them. 

There  is  no  time  like  a  wakeful  night  to 
magnify  distress,  and  nothing  like  an  un 
clouded  rising  sun  to  drive  it  away.  Mark 
looked  out  on  the  stretch  of  country  to  be 
seen  from  his  window — the  Tennessee,  and 
the  mountains  beyond,  their  tops  tinged  with 
yellow  light — and  was  as  unreasonably  hopeful 
as  he  had  been  unreasonably  despondent.  His 
pleasurable  sensations  suddenly  received  a  new 
check.  An  officer  of  the  cavalry  that  had 
passed,  followed  by  two  men,  came  riding 
back.  Maybe  they  were  coming  to  the  house. 
They  stopped  at  the  gate.  One  of  the  men 
rode  forward,  dismounted,  and  opened  it.  The 
officer  entered  and  rode  up  to  the  front  door. 

Mark's  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating. 

He  could  not  see  what  was  going  on  below 
so  close  under  his  window,  but  presently  heard 
the  -officer  talking  to  some  one  on  the  ve 
randa. 

"A  Federal  spy  escaped  last  night  from 
Chattanooga,  madam.  He  was  in  the  disguise 
of  a  negro  girl."  There  was  something  more 
which  was  unintelligible. 

Then  Mark  heard  the  word  "  no  "  spoken  in 
a  voice  which  he  thought  was  Mrs.  Pain's. 

"  He  was  tracked  to  the  river,  which  he  must 


140  CHATTANOOGA. 

have  crossed.  He  probably  landed  a  mile  or 
two  below  Chattanooga,  and  we  believe  he  is 
hiding  somewhere  within  a  few  miles  of  this 
place." 

''You  are  welcome  to —  Mark  could  not 

hear  what  the  officer  was  welcome  to,  but  he 
surmised  it  was  to  search  the  house. 

"  What  time  did  you  go  to  bed  ?  " 

The  reply  was  inaudible. 

"You  saw  nothing  till  then  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  And  everything  was  shut  up  at  ten 
o'clock." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"You  are  good  Confederates,  I  reckon." 

"  Yes  sir,  my  son—  Mark  could  not  hear 

the  rest,  except  the  word  "  army." 

"Well,  with  your  permission,  madam,  we'll 

search '  The  rest  was  lost.  Indeed,  Mark 

was  too  terror-stricken  to  listen  with  due  care. 
He  supposed  the  house  would  be  ransacked. 

In  a  moment  his  terror  was  turned  to  a  de 
licious  sense  of  relief.  The  officer,  after  calling 
to  the  men  at  the  gate,  rode  around  to  the  negro 
quarters. 

But  there  was  a  danger  in  the  search  which 
would  follow  in  the  cabins.  Daniel  would  re 
member  the  negro  girl  he  had  let  in  the  night 
before,  and  would  surmise  that  she  was  the 


CHA  TTA  NOOGA.  1 4  * 

person  the  men  were  looking  for.  Would 
Daniel  betray  him  ?  He  thought  not.  Daniel 
gave  no  hint,  for  presently  Mark  saw  the  trio 
ride  away  to  join  the  troop. 

Laura  Fain  had  spent  a  night  no  more  com 
fortable  than  Mark.  The  responsibility  of  a 
human  life  weighed  upon  her  heavily.  At  one 
moment  she  would  picture  Mark's  face,  pale, 
haggard,  despairing,  as  he  would  be  dragged 
from  his  hiding  place.  The  next  she  was  con 
science-stricken  at  the  part  she  was  playing  in 
shielding  an  enemy  of  her  cause — the  cause  of 
her  brother  and  her  lover.  She  heard  the  dogs 
as  Mark  had  heard  them  on  the  river  bank, 
and  lay  shivering  till  the  baying  died  away  in 
the  distance.  Then  in  the  morning  she  saw 
the  cavalry  go  by,  the  officer  come  up  and  talk 
with  her  mother,  whom  he  asked  the  negroes  to 
call  from  her  bed  that  he  might  question  her 
about  the  presence  of  the  spy.  Laura  got  up 
herself  and  stood  at  the  landing,  listening 
breathless  while  they  talked.  When  the  man 
rode  away  she  muttered  a  fervent  "  Thank 
God." 

As  the  morning  brightened  and  it  was  time 
to  rise,  her  fears  were  less  intense,  and  she 
began  to  think  of  how  she  should  keep  her 
prisoner  concealed  from  the  rest  of  the  house- 


142  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

hold.  How  should  she  feed  him  ?  When  her 
maid  came  up  she  told  her  that  she  would  take 
her  breakfast  in  her  room,  but  surprised  the 
girl  by  the  large  quantity  of  food  she  wanted 
brought  to  her.  When  the  breakfast  came, 
Laura  was  up  and  dressed.  She  directed  the 
girl  to  set  it  on  a  table  and  then  sent  her  to 
the  stable  with  a  message  to  Daniel  about  her 
riding  pony.  Her  maid  having  gone,  Laura 
took  up  the  breakfast  and  carried  it  to  the 
trap. 

In  another  moment  she  was  standing  on  the 
ladder  with  the  tray  in  her  hand,  half  her  body 
below  and  half  in  the  attic,  regarding  a  hand 
some  fellow  looking  very  much  like  a  gentle 
man  in  her  brother's  clothes.  He  in  turn  was 
regarding  what  he  considered  a  very  pretty 
picture  in  the  half-exposed  figure  of  a  young 
girl  holding  a  tray  in  her  hands  on  which  he 
knew  full  well  was  a  breakfast  he  was  hungry 
for.  Then  he  took  the  tray  and  laid  it  on  the 
lounge. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Laura  had  seen 
Mark  dressed  becomingly.  This  was  the  man 
she  had  been  instrumental  in  saving,  the  man 
she  was  protecting,  the  man  she  must  exercise 
her  wits  to  give  an  opportunity  to  get  away 
to  a  land  of  safety  from  the  halter.  It  was 
pleasant  to  see  that  he  was  good  to  look  upon. 


CHATTANOOGA.  .        143 

What  a  fine  brow  ;  what  a  resolute  mouth. 
Those  locks  are  golden  and  fitted  for  a  woman's 
head.  The  eyes  are  heavenly  blue.  And  all 
this  beauty  holds  a  soul  capable  of  plunging 
into  the  most  frightful  of  dangers. 

And  this  being,  so  dazzling  to  a  young  girl, 
scarcely  twenty,  was  in  her  power.  Could  she 
not  at  a  word  give  him  over  to  an  ignominious 
death  ?  And  could  she  not,  by  care,  almost 
certainly  insure  his  freedom  ?  He  was  her 
slave,  bound  to  her  far  more  securely  than 
Alice  her  maid,  who  had  been  given  her  by  lier 
father.  She  could  order  him  to  crawl  on  the 
floor  before  her,  and  he  would  have  to  do  so. 
She  had  once  seen  a  woman  enter  a  cage 
of  a  lion  with  only  a  slender  whip  in  her  hand, 
and  the  huge  beast  had  obeyed  her  slightest 
motion.  Mark  was  her  lion,  and  she  felt  in 
clined  to  give  him  just  one  touch  of  the  whip 
to  see  what  he  would  do.  She  stepped  into 
the  room  and  let  down  the  trap. 

"  Miss  Fain,"  Mark  said,  "  you  cannot  have 
any  conception  of  the  fervor  of  my  gratitude. 
You  stand  between  me  and  death.  Not  the 
death  of  a  soldier,  but  of  a  felon.  And  here," 
pointing  to  the  breakfast,  "  you  are  minister 
ing  to  my  wants  with  your  own  hands." 

"  And  yet  I  told  you  not  to  come  here." 

"  I  did  not  understand  you  so." 


144  CHATTANOOGA. 

Mark  was  hurt.  His  heart  was  full  of  grati 
tude.  He  could  not  understand  how,  after  do 
ing  and  risking  so  much  for  him,  she  could  blame 
him  for  throwing  himself  on  her  generosity. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  regret  your  kindness," 
he  added,  with  almost  a  tremble  in  his  voice. 

"  I  did  not  say  that  I  regretted  it." 

"  But  you  remind  me  that  it  is  not  agreeable 
to  you." 

"  How  can  it  be  ?  You  are  a  Yankee,  a  spy, 
and  on  a  mission  to  discover  the  movements  of 
our  troops." 

"  Why,  then,  do  you  not  give  me  up  ?  " 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Can  I  turn 
executioner?" 

"  I  see.  I  am  indebted  for  my  present 
safety  to  the  fact  that  you  do  not  care  to  do 
an  unwomanly  act." 

"  You  must  draw  your  own  inference." 

"  But  I  should  like  to  be  grateful.  How  can 
I  when  you  tell  me  that  you  do  all  this  for  me 
that  your  white  hands  may  not  have  a  stain 
upon  them  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  feel 
grateful." 

Mark  studied  her  face  for  a  moment  earnestly. 
Then  his  manner  changed. 

"  Miss  Fain,  "he  said,  pointing,  "  take  away 
the  breakfast." 


CffA  TTANOOGA .  1 45 

"  Why  so  ?"  she  asked,  startled. 

"  I  will  not  be  under  any  further  obligation 
to  one  who  acts  from  pride  rather  than  sweet 
charity.  You  have  saved  me  from  the  hounds 
and  from  the  gallows.  Were  it  not  for  you,  I 
should  now  be  either  about  to  mount  the  scaf 
fold,  or  have  passed  by  this  time  into  that  land 
where  the  only  human  attribute  I  can  imagine 
as  fitted  to  be  there  is  charity.  Whether  the 
danger  is  now  passed  from  this  neighborhood 
I  don't  know ;  but  I  am  going  to  risk  it.  I 
am  going  downstairs  and  out  from  under  this 
roof." 

"You  will  do  no  such  thing!  " 

"I  will!"  And  had  she  not  placed  herself 
between  him  and  the  trap,  he  would  have  car 
ried  out  his  intention. 

"  Stay  where  you  are  !  "  she  said,  in  a  voice 
in  which  there  was  something  commanding. 

"  By  what  authority  do  you  assume  to  direct 
me  ?  " 

"  Your  life  belongs  to  me." 

"  True."     He  bowed  his  head. 

"  You  understand  me,"  she  spoke,  with  even 
more  authority  than  before.  "  I  own  you.  I 
own  your  life.  You  are  my  slave  in  a  stronger 
sense  than  my  colored  girl." 

"  It  is  that  ownership  of  human  beings,  Miss 
Fain,  corning  down  to  you  from  past  genera- 


1 46  CHA  TTA  NOOGA . 

tions,  that  has  given  you  the  spirit  to  tyrannize 
over  me  now." 

"  I  tyrannize  ?" 

There  was  a  surprise  that  was  not  feigned. 
She  did  not  realize  what  she  was  doing. 

"  Yes  ;  never  have  I  been  so  trodden  upon 
as  by  you." 

There  was  a  submission  in  the  young  sol 
dier's  tone  that  satisfied  the  imperious  girl. 
She  was  ready  to  heal  the  cuts  she  had  given, 
but  she  waited  for  him  to  speak  again. 

"What  do  you  wish  me  to  do?"  he  asked. 

"  Remain  where  you  are  till  I  regard  it  safe 
for  you  to  go." 

"Then  you  have  a  desire  for  my  safety?" 
he  asked,  looking  up  at  her  quickly. 

"You  came  here  unbidden  and  placed  your 
self  in  my  hands.  Do  you  think  it  proper  to 
come  and  go  at  your  pleasure  ?  " 

Mark  approached  her,  and  bending  low,  took 
her  hand  and  kissed  it.  There  was  something 
in  the  act  to  remind  her  of  the  lion — after 
the  training. 


XV. 

SOURI  AND  JAKEY. 

IT  was  scarcely  more  than  fifteen  minutes 
after  Souri  had  bid  Mark  "  God  speed  " 
when  old  Triggs  re-entered  the  prison  grounds, 
and  mounting  the  flight  of  steps  leading  to  the 
second  story  went  into  the  jail.  No  one 
aeemed  to  be  about  the  place.  He  entered  his 
bedroom  and  found  his  wife  dozing  in  her 
chair  by  the  window.  He  asked  for  the  col 
ored  girl,  and  his  wife  told  him  that  she  had 
not  yet  returned  with  the  medicine.  He 
waited,  expecting  every  minute  that  she  would 
come  in.  Had  he  not  noticed  an  absence  of 
the  groans  to  which  the  supposed  invalid  had 
been  treating  him  all  the  evening,  he  might 
have  waited  for  Souri,  without  a  movement, 
much  longer  than  he  did.  As  it  was,  it  oc 
curred  to  him  that  perhaps  the  prisoner  might 
be  dead.  Taking  up  a  tallow  dip  he  went  to  the 
room  where  Mark  was  supposed  to  be  con 
fined.  A  figure  was  lying  in  the  corner.  The 
jailer  went  to  it,  and  by  means  of  the  candle 
saw  what  he  supposed  to  be  the  prisoner.  The 


1 4  8  CHA  TTANOOGA . 

face  was  to  the  wall,  and  he  did  not  at  first  dis 
cover  the  deception. 

"  Yank,"  he  said,  "  air  y'  dead  ?  " 

No  answer. 

He  took  hold  of  the  figure's  shoulder,  and 
shook  it. 

Still  no  reply. 

Turning  Souri  over,  he  at  once  recognized 
the  face  of  the  "  mulatto  girl." 

In  an  instant  he  saw  through  the  ruse  that 
had  been  practiced.  Without  stopping  to  in 
terrogate  her,  he  rushed  from  the  room,  past 
the  sentinel  at  the  door,  and  out  to  the  guard 
house.  There  he  gave  the  alarm,  and  in  a  mo 
ment  the  whole  guard  were  in  motion. 

Souri  hoped  that  the  sentinel  at  the  door 
would  join  in  the  chase,  in  which  event  she  in 
tended  to  go  to  Jakey's  room,  get  him  out, 
and  attempt  to  escape.  But  the  soldier  only 
went  as  far  as  the  door  at  the  head  of  the  long 
staircase.  Then,  remembering  that  he  would 
doubtless  be  punished  for  letting  one  prisoner 
escape,  and  that  there  were  several  negroes  in 
the  "  black  hole  "  for  him  to  guard,  he  went 
no  further. 

In  five  minutes  Souri  heard  the  barking  of 
hounds  without. 

No  word  was  sent  to  headquarters  regarding 
Mark's  escape  till  the  hounds  had  followed  the 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  1 49 

scent  to  the  river  and  there  lost  it.  Then  one 
of  the  guards  was  sent  in  to  report  the  whole 
affair.  Being  an  infantry  man,  he  was  obliged 
to  walk,  which  took  time.  Cavalry  was  the 
only  arm  of  the  service  capable  of  following  the 
escaped  man  with  a  chance  of  success,  and  cav 
alry  must  be  ferried  across  the  river  or  ordered 
from  Dallas,  on  the  other  side,  ten  miles  above. 
The  latter  course  was  chosen,  and  two  squad 
ron  were  directed  to  proceed  at  once,  the  one 
to  throw  a  chain-guard  across  the  neck  of  Moc 
casin  Point,  the  other  to  scour  the  river  bank 
for  a  distance  of  several  miles  below.  Had 
there  been  any  cavalry  nearer,  Mark  would 
have  had  a  very  slender  chance  to  get  away. 
As  it  was,  he  barely  escaped  one  of  the  squad 
rons. 

About  noon  of  the  day  after  Mark's  escape, 
the  military  authorities  began  to  relax  their 
efforts  to  recapture  him,  as  they  had  other 
matters  of  more  importance  to  attend  to ;  but 
they  induced  the  country  people,  by  hope  of 
reward,  to  continue  the  search  within  a  radius 
of  ten  or  fifteen  miles  from  Chattanooga.  The 
provost  marshal  sent  for  Souri  and  Jakey  with 
a  view  to  gaining  from  them  whatever  he  might 
concerning  Mark's  identity  and  his  mission. 

Souri,  whose  only  clothing  was  that  left  her 
by  Mark,  begged  Mrs.  Triggs  to  get  her  more 


150  CHATTANOOGA. 

suitable  apparel  before  being  taken  out  of  the 
jail.  Had  the  old  woman  any  excuse,  indeed 
had  it  not  been  for  the  presence  of  the  guard 
at  the  door,  there  is  no  telling  what  she  might 
have  done  to  Souri.  To  have  been  thus  duped, 
put  her  into  a  towering  passion.  She  went  into 
Souri's  cell  and  berated  her  with  her  tongue 
and  shook  her  fist  in  her  face,  but  refrained 
from  touching  her.  When  Souri  asked  for  a 
woman's  dress  she  at  first  flatly  refused,  but 
fearing  she  would  incur  the  displeasure  of  the 
provost  marshal  still  further  than  she  had  if 
she  should  send  a  girl  to  him  not  properly 
dressed,  she  selected  an  old  calico  frock  of  her 
own  and  gave  it  to  her. 

Souri  and  Jakey  were  led  to  the  marshal's 
office,  followed  by  a  crowd  of  curious  people, 
who  were  aware  that  they  had  been  the  means 
of  the  escape  of  a  spy  ;  but  when  they  arrived 
the  crowd  were  left  outside. 

Never  was  a  man  more  puzzled  what  to  do 
with  prisoners  than  the  marshal  in  the  case  of 
Souri  and  Jakey.  He  saw  a  simple,  modest, 
poor  white  country  girl,  apparently  not  out  of 
her  "teens,"  and  a  stupid-looking  boy,  who 
was  not  very  far  into  them. 

"Who  are  you?  "  he  asked  of  Souri,  not  un 
kindly. 

"  Missouri  Slack." 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  151 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  On  the  Anderson  road,  not  far  from 
Jasper." 

"  And  this  boy  ?  " 

"  He's  my  brother." 

"When  did  you  come  from  home?" 

"  Three  days  ago." 

"  What  brought  you  ;  or  how  did  you  know 
that  the  prisoner  was  here  and  in  jail  ?  " 

"  Jakey  sent  me  word." 

"  This  boy  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  How  ?  " 

"  He  sent  me  a  silk  hankercher  what  I  give 
tother  un." 

"  How  did  you  send  it,  boy?  " 

"  Niggers." 

"  Urn." 

"  Well,  you  two  are  pretty  young  to  be  en 
gaged  in  such  mischief." 

The  officer  looked  at  them  with  interest  and 
vexation  mingled.  He  had  lost  a  prisoner  for 
whom  he  was  responsible,  but  he  could  not  but 
wonder  at  such  a  dull-looking  boy  achieving  so 
difficult  a  task  as  sending  the  communication, 
and  could  not  but  admire  the  sacrifice  made  by 
the  girl. 

"What   do  you   think  I  ought  to  do  with 

?n 


1 5  2  CHA  TTANOOGA . 

"  Reckon  y'  mought  gimme  back  my  gun," 
said  Jakey. 

The  officer  could  not  repress  a  smile. 

"What  gun?" 

"  Th'  one  yer  tuk  tother  day." 

"  Go  and  get  the  boy's  gun,  orderly,"  he  said 
to  a  soldier  on  duty  at  the  door. 

The  gun  was  not  to  be  found  then,  but  was 
recovered  later,  and  Jakey  was  happy  in  receiv 
ing  it. 

"Do  you  know  what  you've  been  doing?" 
the  officer  resumed,  addressing  Souri.  "  You've 
helped  a  spy  to  escape,  who  will  doubtless  carry 
information  to  the  enemies  of  your  country." 

Souri  made  no  reply.  She  stood  looking  at 
the  officer  with  her  big  black  eyes.  Fortu 
nately  for  her,  he  had  a  daughter  about  her  age. 

Meanwhile  some  Tennesseeans  who  hailed 
from  Jasper  had  been  sent  for,  and  they  came 
in  to  have  a  look  at  the  prisoners.  Several  of 
them  recognized  both  Souri  and  Jakey,  and 
told  the  marshal  that  they  were  what  they 
pretended. 

This  and  their  youth,  together  with  the  fact 
that  the  provost  marshal  was  not  a  harsh  man, 
saved  them  from  punishment.  There  was  a 
great  deal  of  feeling  against  "  renegade  "  East 
Tennesseeans;  and  had  they  been  men,  they 
would  have  been  taken  back  to  the  "  black 


CHATTANOOGA.  153 

hole  "  at  the  jail,  and  kept  there  till  it  \vas  found 
necessary  to  move  them  from  the  fact  of  an 
approaching  enemy.  As  it  was,  the  marshal 
directed  that  they  be  taken  into  another  room 
till  he  could  hear  from  headquarters  regarding 
them.  He  knew  the  Triggs  and  the  "  black 
hole,"  and  feared  to  let  them  go  back  to  them. 
The  officers  at  headquarters  were  too  busy 
to  meddle  with  such  a  case.  The  provost 
marshal's  communication  was  returned  with 
the  following  indorsement. 

Respectfully  referred  back  to  the  provost  marshal  with 
authority  to  do  with  these  prisoners  as  he  thinks  for  the 
best  interests  of  the  service.  The  spy  having  escaped  it 
does  not  appear  that  there  is  any  reason  to  hold  them. 

The  brother  and  sister  were  brought  in  again 
to  hear  what  was  to  be  their  fate.  Souri  was 
aware  of  the  enormity  of  her  offense  and  ex 
pected  a  severe  punishment.  She  had  deter 
mined  to  beg  the  officer  to  send  Jakey  back  to 
his  parents,  then  he  might  punish  heras  he  liked. 

"  Suppose  I  let  you  and  your  little  brother 
go  home,"  said  the  marshal,  "  will  you  go 
there  and  keep  out  of  any  interference  in 
matters  that  concern  the  Confederacy  here 
after?" 

"I'll  go  home,"  said  Souri. 

"  Well,  I  reckon  you'd  better  go,"  replied 
the  officer.  Then  to  the  guard  : 


154  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  Send  the  corporal  here." 

"  Take  these  children,"  he  said  to  that 
person  when  he  arrived,  "  to  the  other  side  of 
the  river  and  turn  them  adrift.  And  see  that 
they  don't  get  back  here." 

Souri's  heart  jumped  into  her  throat  for  joy. 
Turning  her  expressive  eyes  on  the  officer, 
she  said,  "Thank  you." 

"  Mr.  Ossifer,"  said  Jakey,  "  I  thank  yer  fur 
gimmen  me  back  my  gun." 

A  smile  broke  over  the  faces  of  those  present. 

The  next  day  the  brother  and  sister  arrived 
at  home,  and  great  was  the  rejoicing  in  the 
Slack  family. 


XVI. 

A  SOUTH  CAROLINA  GEOLOGIST. 

WHEN  the  trap-door  of  the  attic  had  closed 
over  Laura  Fain,  after  her  interview  with 
Mark,  he  stood  for  a  few  minutes  pondering 
on  her  strange  treatment  of  him.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  breakfast.  He  had  eaten  noth 
ing  since  the  evening  before  and  the  sight  of 
the  greater  part  of  a  fried  chicken  (it  had  been 
killed  by  Laura's  orders  for  him  only  that 
morning)  was  especially  grateful.  Mark  ap 
plied  himself  to  his  meal,  and  while  he  ate,  he 
went  over  the  scenes  through  which  he  had 
passed  since  he  set  out  on  his  mission.  Surely 
he  must  have  been  gone  a  month.  He  counted 
the  days.  He  had  reached  Jasper  on  the 
evening  of  the  2oth  of  August ;  Chattanooga 
on  the  morning  of  the  22d  ;  tried  on  the  24th; 
was  to  have  been  hanged  on  the  2/th  ;  escaped 
on  the  26th.  That  was  only  the  evening  before. 
It  was  now  the  2/th — only  a  week.  Never  had 
he  passed  such  a  week  before,  and  he  hoped  he 
never  would  again. 

Soon  after  he  had  finished  his  breakfast,  a 
155 


1 5  6  CHA  TTA  NOOGA . 

hand  was  extended  through  the  trap,  a  pitcher 
of  water  and  toilet  articles  were  left  and  the 
dishes  taken.  At  noon  a  meal  was  handed  in 
by  the  same  fair  hand. 

Though  but  two  meals  had  been  thus  left, 
Laura  began  to  perceive  that  she  could  not 
thus  feed  her  charge  without  soon  being  dis 
covered.  When  she  took  Mark's  dinner  to 
him  she  entered  the  attic,  and  had  him  close 
the  trap  after  her. 

"  It  will  not  do  for  you  to  stay  here  much 
longer,"  she  said.  "  My  mother  has  already 
become  suspicious  that  I  have  something  on 
my  mind,  and  I  fear  being  detected  carrying 
these  meals.  I  dare  not  tell  her  all,  and  I  dare 
not  risk  her  discovering  that  you  are  here." 

"  I  will  go  to-night." 

"  It  will  be  sure  capture  for  you  to  go  ;  the 
negroes  tell  me  that  the  country  people  are 
all  out  looking  for  the — the  spy." 

"  I  can't  sfay  here  and  compromise  you." 

"  I  have  a  plan.  This  evening  I  will  watch 
for  an  opportunity  for  you  to  go  downstairs. 
You  can  introduce  yourself  as  a  guest,  and 
though  you  will  be  every  minute  in  danger,  you 
will  be  safer  than  here." 

"  And  in  case  I  am  discovered  will  not  be 
caught  like  a  rat  in  a  trap." 

"  You  can  appear  as  a  traveler ;  you  must 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  157 

have  a  hat ;  I  will  bring  you  one.  At  the  first 
opportunity  after  dark  I'll  come  to  the  trap 
and  knock.  Follow  me  downstairs.  I  don't 
think  any  one  will  recognize  you  in  these 
clothes  ;  they  have  been  packed  away  since 
my  brother  went  to  Virginia  a  year  ago  ; 
mamma  only  saw  you,  when  you  were  here 
before,  after  dark  on  the  veranda,  and — well  I 
think  there  will  be  a  very  good  chance  for  you 
to  play  guest  without  detection." 

"  The  servants  ?  " 

"  They  would  never  betray  a  Yankee.  They 
think  you  are  all  coming  down  to  free  them  and 
they'll  have  nothing  to  do  but  lie  in  the 
sun." 

"  Not  an  unpleasant  occupation  on  a  pleasant 
day,"  said  Mark  irrelevantly. 

"  Should  anything  happen,  I  only  fear  mam 
ma.  And  after  all,  she  is  a  woman,"  she  added 
significantly. 

"Which  you  pretend  not  to  be." 

"  If  all  goes  well  you  will  be  assigned  a  room, 
— the  guest  chamber,  perhaps, — and  if  it  is  not 
safe  for  you  to  be  downstairs  you  may  feign 
to  be  ill  and  keep  your  apartment." 

Mark  was  better  pleased  with  the  plan  than 
remaining  where  he  was.  He  did  not  expect 
to  stay  in  the  house  longer  than  till  the  next 
night,  when  he  hoped  those  who  were  seeking 


1 5  8  CffA  TTANOOGA. 

for  him  would  become  tired  of  the  hunt  and 
give  him  a  chance  for  his  life. 

"I'll  do  all  you  suggest,"  he  said  to  Laura;  "and 
whether  you  wish  it  or  not,  I  am  very  grateful." 

She  lowered  her  eyes  under  his  look  of  grat 
itude,  and  then  went  below. 

As  soon  as  it  grew  dark,  Mark  listened  for 
the  signal.  It  came  a  few  minutes  before  nine 
o'clock.  Mrs.  Fain  had  remained  in  the  parlor 
up  to  that  moment,  when  she  went  upstairs 
to  get  some  article  necessary  to  a  piece  of 
work  she  was  doing.  Laura  followed  her,  turn 
ing  out  the  lights  by  the  way,  and  keeping  on 
up  to  the  attic. 

Within  a  few  seconds  after  her  knock,  Mark 
was  descending  the  stairs  and  in  a  twinkling 
was  in  the  parlor.  Not  half  a  minute  elapsed 
between  the  signal  and  his  arrival  there. 

It  was  not  long  before  Mrs.  Fain  was  heard 
groping  about  upstairs,  in  the  dark,  wanting 
to  know  who  had  turned  out  the  lights  and 
calling  on  a  servant  to  relight  them.  When 
she  entered  the  parlor  she  was  surprised  to  see 
her  daughter  in  company  with  a  stranger,  who 
was  standing,  hat  in  hand,  as  though  he  had 
just  come  in  from  without. 

"  Mamma,"  said  Laura,  with  her  heart  in  her 
throat,  but  with  the  most  assured  of  innocent 
tones,  "this  is  a  gentleman  who — Mr ' 


CHATTANOOGA.  159 

"  Rhett,"  supplied  Mark. 

"  Mr.  Rhett  of— 

"  South  Carolina." 

Any  old  Virginia  or  South  Carolina  name 
was  quite  enough  to  insure  a  welcome  from 
Mrs.  Fain.  Without  waiting  to  hear  what  he 
might  say  further,  or  an  account  of  how  he 
came  to  be  there  so  suddenly,she  said : 

"  I'm  pleased  to  see  you,  sir;  are  you  related 
to  the  Rhetts  of  South  Carolina?  " 

"  We  all  came  of  the  same  main  stem,  mad 
am,"  said  Mark,  assuming  the  tone  of  a  South 
ern  gentleman. 

"  Mr.  Rhett  is  traveling,  mamma.  He  says 
that — that— 

"  I  am  looking  for  mines,  madam.  You 
may  not  know  it,  but  you  are  in  the  center 
of  a  rich  mineral  region." 

It  is  pleasant  to  hear  that  fortune  may  come 
soon,  and  Mrs.  Fain  was  evidently  much 
pleased  at  the  information. 

"  Indeed  !  "  she  said  calmly. 

"  Yes,  madam,  I  have  been  looking  for  ore. 
I  presume  I  need  not  say  whether  in  govern 
ment  interest  or  not ;  we  must  have  cannons, 
you  know." 

"  Government  officers  are  not  bound  to  dis 
close  their  identity  or  their  objects,  sir." 

"  I  have  been  prospecting,  madam,  and  am 


160  CHATTANOOGA. 

separated  from  my  party,  owing  to  the  stupidity 
of  the  driver  of  the  vehicle  which  contains  my 
crucibles  and  chemicals.  I  appeared  at  your 
door,  and  your  daughter  was  kind  enough  to 
ask  me  in ;  not  surprising,  considering  your 
far-famed  Tennessee  hospitality." 

"You  are  quite  welcome,  sir." 

Mark  bowed  low,  with  his  hand  on  his  heart, 
like  a  South  Carolina  gentleman  of  the  old 
school. 

"  Have  you  supped  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Fain. 

"  Yes,  madam  ;  I  succeeded  in  getting  a 
meal  by  the  way.  A  poor  one  ;  indeed,  a  very 
poor  one,  with  burnt  beans  for  coffee.  But 
since  the  Abolition  Lincoln  Government  has 
violated  all  rules  of  civilized  warfare  by  this 
cruel  blockade — intending  to  starve  us  into 
subjection — I  suppose  we  must  take  what  we 
can  get.  I  repeat  it,  we  must  take  what  we 
can  get,  madam." 

Mark's  eyes  flashed  with  well-feigned  indig 
nation. 

"  It  is  our  duty  to  bear  our  deprivations 
cheerfully,"  said  Mrs.  Fain.  "We  shall  gain 
our  independence  at  last,  and  that  should  be 
an  incentive." 

"  It  should,  madam ;  and  let  me  tell  you  we 
are  about  to  see  stirring  times  and  great  suc 
cesses.  This  region  has  become  of  especial 


CHATTANOOGA.  161 

military  importance.  Our  forces  will  be  in 
front  of  Nashville,  perhaps  Louisville,  very 
soon  ;  while  General  Lee  can't  fail  with  such 
noble  men  as  he  has  in  his  army — the  very 
flower  of  the  South — the  flower  of  the  South, 
madam — he  can't  fail,  I  say,  to  drive  the 
Yankees  out  of  Virginia  ! 

"  You  are  very  hopeful." 

While  Mark  was  thus  performing,  Laura 
stood  with  downcast  eyes,  and  if  her  mother 
had  not  been  so  interested  in  the  hopeful 
words  of  the  garrulous  South  Carolinian,  she 
would  have  noticed  a  slow  heaving  of  her 
daughter's  bosom,  with  here  and  there  a  slight 
spasmodic  action. 

"And  now,  madam,"  said  Mark,  "  may  I  beg 
a  night's  lodging?  I  fear  it  is  too  late  to  find 
my  party." 

"  Certainly,  sir.     Call  Miranda,  my  dear." 

Miranda  was  summoned,  and  directed  to 
show  the  gentleman  to  the  guest  chamber  on 
the  second  floor  in  the  front  of  the  house. 

Mark  went  with  the  servant,  and  remained 
in  his  room  long  enough  to  have  made  a  toilet 
and  then  sauntered  downstairs.  At  the  door 
of  the  parlor,  in  which  Mrs,  Fain  and  her 
daughter  were  sitting,  he  paused,  as  if  waiting 
for  an  invitation  to  enter.  This  was  given  him, 
but  he  did  not  stay  long.  For  a  hot-blooded 


1 62  CHATTANOOGA. 

South  Carolinian,  he  seemed  not  to  bear  the 
heat  well,  and  manifested  a  desire  to  get  out 
on  to  the  veranda.  Indeed,  he  had  a  whole 
some  dread  of  the  light.  Besides,  he  desired 
to  be  where  he  could  converse  with  Laura. 

"  If  I  may  beg  you  to  excuse  me,  ladies,"  he 
said,  "  I  will  go  out  for  a  little  fresh  air." 

He  strolled  out  into  the  night  and  walked 
back  and  forth  on  the  veranda. 

"  Laura,"  said  Mrs.  Fain,  "  go  out  and  enter 
tain  Mr.  Rhett.  I'm  afraid  of  the  night  air 
myself." 

"  Do  you  think  it  essential,  mamma  ?  " 

"Certainly  I  do.  South  Carolinians  are 
especially  particular  about  the  entertainment 
of  their  guests,  and  I  wouldn't  have  it  go  back 
to  Charleston  that  we  had  been  remiss  for  the 
world." 

Laura  obeyed  her  mother,  and  joined  the 
guest  on  the  veranda. 

Mark  lifted  his  hat  respectfully  to  her. 

"  The  moon  is  rising,"  he  remarked.  "I  see 
the  waxing  light.  If  you  will  come  this  way," 
going  to  the  end  of  the  veranda,  "you  can  see 
it  better." 

Laura  followed  him  to  the  position,  where 
they  were  out  of  hearing. 

The  relief  from  keeping  Mark  concealed  in 
the  garret,  the  success  of  the  imposition  of  the 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  1 63 

spurious  South  Carolinian  on  her  mother, 
Mark's  talent  for  playing  his  part,  all  combined 
to  place  Laura  Fain  in  an  exhilarated  frame  of 
mind.  Like  most  women,  she  admired  daring, 
and  like  most  women,  appreciated  that  daring 
in  one  in  whom  she  was  interested  in  propor 
tion  to  the  distance  of  the  danger  attending  it. 

"  You  are  safe  for  the  present,"  she  said,  her 
eyes  glistening  in  the  moonlight  and  a  bright 
spot  on  each  cheek. 

"  Thanks  to  your  courage  and  ingenuity." 

"Oh  no,  no.  That's  absurd.  For  you  to 
speak  of  my  courage  !  Do  you  know  that  the 
recklessness  with  which  you  put  your  neck  into 
a  halter  is  as  unintelligible  to  me  as  mathema 
tics  would  be  to  one  of  our  servants." 

"  For  the  cause,"  said  Mark,  "  one  ought 
to— 

"  Nonsense  !  The  cause  !  You  love  these 
dangers." 

"  There  is  a  fascination  in  them,  I  admit. 
So  long  as  there  is  one  chance  for  me,  no  mat 
ter  how  many  there  are  against  me — so  long 
as  I  have  an  arm  or  a  weapon  to  fight  with,  I 
am  a  man.  When  cornered  and  taken,  I  am 
the  veriest  coward  in  the  world.  While  in 
prison  in  Chattanooga  I  moaned  and  whined 
like  a  frightened  child.  The  truth  is,  that 
danger  is  fascinating  only  either  before  it  is 


I<H  CHATTANOOGA. 

encountered  or  after  it  has  passed.  When  I 
am  in  it,  I  want  to  get  out  of  it.  When  I  am 
out  of  it  I  want  to  get  in  it  again." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  know  the  meaning  of 
the  word  fear." 

"  Indeed,  you  are  mistaken.  If  I  did  not 
feel  fear  there  would  be  no  fascination  in  dan- 
ger." 

"  Then  you  have  a  way  with  you  of  making 
people  do  what  you  like.  When  you  were 
here  before,  you  fascinated  all  the  servants. 
You  completely  captivated  Uncle  Daniel,  who 
has  talked  of  no  one  else  since." 

"  Daniel  is  a  good  man.  He'll  be  of  use  to 
me  yet." 

"  Yes,  of  use  to  you.  You  use  every  one, 
either  openly  or  by  deception.  I  almost  fan 
cied  you  were  Professor — somebody,  just  now, 
when  you  were  deceiving  poor  mamma.  You 
reminded  me  of  Mephistopheles  for  all  the 
world." 

"  You  flatter,"  said  Mark  in  irony. 

"  You  are  Mephistopheles.  You  come  here 
and  compel  me  to  harbor  you.  You  are  seek 
ing  to  injure  the  cause  I  favor,  and  I  give  you 
my  brother's  clothes,  when  that  brother  is 
fighting  for  that  cause.  Why  do  I  not  send 
for  some  one  to  come  and  take  you?" 

"  On  account  of  your  native  loveliness." 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  1 65 

"  You  are  a  very  devil." 

"  I  never  regarded  myself  a  saint." 

"And  the  worst  of  it  is,"  she  went  on,  her 
eyes  sparkling  all  the  while,  and  talking 
rapidly,  "  that  such  deviltry  is  especially  fas 
cinating  to  me.  I  would  love  to  be  a  man.  I 
would  do  what  you  do.  I  would  belong  to  the 
cavalry.  I  would  be  a  scout.  I  would  be  a " 

"Spy?" 

"Anything  I  had  the  courage  to  be.  I 

would  delight  in  battles,  in  charges,  in 

Heavens  !  " 

The  exclamation  was  occasioned  by  a  horse 
man  who  had  approached  while  they  were 
talking.  They  had  not  noticed  him  till  he  had 
opened  the  gate  and  was  half-way  between  it 
and  the  house.  Laura  sank  into  a  seat ;  all 
color  left  her  cheeks,  and  her  heart  seemed  to 
stop  beating. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  said  Mark,  bending 
over  her  and  whispering  in  her  ear.  "  It  is 
only  a  private  soldier.  He  is  not  after  me,  and 
if  he  is  he  can't  have  me." 

Mark  left  her  and  advanced  to  the  rail  of  the 
veranda. 

"  Can  you  tell  me  how  fyar  'tis  ter  Chat- 
tenoogy?"  asked  the  man. 

"  About  two  miles,  I  reckon,  as  the  crow 
flies  ;  three  or  four  really." 


1 66  CHA  TTANOOGA . 

"  Straight  'long  up  the  road  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I'm  a  courier.  I  ben  carry  en  despatches ; 
but  I  didn't  go  this  way." 

"  Well,  you  just  keep  the  road  and  you'll  get 
through  all  right.  Any  news  from  the  front?" 

"  Don't  know  any.  I  ben  away  from  Chat- 
tenoogy  two  days." 

"  Well,  you  haven't  far  to  go." 

"  Good-night,  sir." 

"  Good-night." 

Mark  went  back  to  Laura.  She  had  not  re 
covered  from  her  fright,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
wait  a  few  moments  before  he  could  get  a  word 
from  her. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  me  a  dreadful  coward," 
she  said  at  last.  "After  all,  I'm  only  a  woman." 

"Not  cowardly  for  yourself ;  for  a  poor  devil 
whose  neck  is  in  a  halter." 

"  Yes,  I'm  only  a  girl,  but  I  own  the  life  of 
a  brave  man,  a  soldier,  a  reckless  monster,  a 
fiend,  a  spy." 

"Anything  else?" 

"  There  are  no  more  words  to  express  what 
I  mean." 

"Laura!"  called  Mrs.  Fain.  "If  you're 
going  to  stay  out  any  later  you'd  better  get  a 
shawl." 

"  I'm  going  in,  mamma." 


CtIA  TTANOOGA  167 

They  walked  into  the  house  together.  Mr. 
Rhett,  of  South  Carolina,  made  a  few  common 
place  remarks  to  Mrs.  Fain  and  then  begged 
to  be  excused,  as  he  had  been  prospecting  dur 
ing  the  day  and  was  very  tired.  He  bowed 
low  to  the  ladies,  and  then  went  upstairs. 


XVII. 

SURPRISED. 

THE  next  morning  Mark,  hearing  a  tap  at 
the  door,  got  out  of  bed  and  opened  it 
cautiously.  As  was  natural  under  the  circum 
stances,  he  saw  danger  in  everything  that  oc 
curred.  He  half  expected  to  see  through  the 
slight  opening  he  at  first  made  the  muzzle  of  a 
revolver  pointing  directly  at  him.  He  saw  a 
very  different  sight.  It  was  a  large  tumbler 
with  a  straw  in  it  on  a  silver  tray  in  the  hands 
of  a  negro. 

"  Mrs.  Fain's  compliments,  sah  !  "  and  he 
handed  Mark  a  mint  julep. 

"Ah!  "  exclaimed  Mark,  with  intense  satisfac 
tion. 

"  Present  my  compliments  to  your  mistress, 
and  tell  her  I  perceive  with  pleasure  that  this 
noble  Virginia  custom  has  found  its  way  into 
Tennessee,  as  it  has  long  ago  into  South 
Carolina." 

"  Yes,  sah  !  " 

"  There  are  alleviating  circumstances  even 
in  the  life  of  a  spy,"  said  Mark,  contemplating 

168 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  169 

the  beverage,  "  uncertain  as  that  life  is.  Why 
will  man  not  always  be  a  philosopher  ?  Here 
I  am  in  a  beautifully  furnished  room ;  have 
been  sleeping  between  the  whitest  linen,  on 
the  softest  of  beds.  I  arise  and  behold  this 
delicate  attention  on  the  part  of  my  hostess, 
who,  if  she  should  know  who  I  am,  would  bring 
a  dozen  bayonets  to  hedge  me  in,  and  I  should 
be  waving  in  the  soft  summer  breeze  at  the 
end  of  a  hemp  cord  in  twelve  hours.  But  she 
does  not  know  who  I  am,  and,  considered 
philosophically,  I  am  Mr.  Rhett,  of  South 
Carolina,  and  in  clover.  Here's  to  Private 
Mark  Malone,  poor  devil !  " 

However,  Mark  desired  to  keep  his  head  cool, 
considering  the  circumstances,  and  contented 
himself  with  a  few  swallows  of  the  julep;  and 
after  completing  his  toilet,  joined  the  ladies  at 
the  breakfast  table.  He  praised  Mrs.  Pain's 
fried  chicken,  and  light  biscuit,  and  corn  bread, 
and  was  about  to  give  the  coffee  a  few  words 
of  encomium,  when,  tasting  it  beforehand,  he 
discovered  the  prevailing  chicory.  So  he  en 
tered  upon  a  tirade  against  the  blockade,  and 
ended  by  hoping  that  Abe  Lincoln  would  at 
last  be  hanged  higher  than  Haman  ;  a  reference 
that  gave  him  a  disagreeable  sensation  about 
the  neck,  and  caused  Laura's  bosom  to  heave 
tumultuously. 


:  7°  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

The  comforts  surrounding  Mark,  the  kind 
ness  of  his  hostess,  and,  above  all,  the  pres 
ence  of  a  girl  whose  bosom  seemed  to  contain 
such  volcanic  forces  as  would  best  harmonize 
with  one  whose  chief  object  in  life  seemed  to 
be  to  get  himself  hanged,  conspired  to  make 
him  feel  a  safety  that  he  should  not  have  felt 
under  the  circumstances.  He  had  been  cam 
paigning  for  a  year,  during  which  period  he 
had  experienced  no  greater  comfort  than  a 
McClellan  saddle,  and  the  women  of  the 
country  through  which  he  had  passed  had  not 
received  him  with  any  marked  evidences  of 
pleasure.  Is  it  to  be  wondered  that  he  felt 
approximate  content — if  one  can  feel  content 
whose  neck  is  in  a  halter — in  the  Fain  manor- 
house  ? 

But  Mark  had  something  else  on  his  mind 
which  he  knew  was  of  more  importance  than 
his  own  safety,  though  its  value,  if  he  should 
possess  it,  would  be  dependent  on  that  safety. 
He  wanted  some  indication  of  where  the  enemy 
would  strike.  He  was  not  so  foolhardy  as  to 
think  of  going  back  to  Chattanooga  himself, 
but  he  resolved  to  send  a  messenger.  If  he 
could  find  some  one  to  go  to  town  that  day, 
the  latest  news  could  be  brought  him  in  the 
evening.  Then  he  would  assume  a  disguise 
and  be  off  in  the  night. 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  171 

After  breakfast  he  took  his  pipe  and  went 
out  to  smoke  in  the  yard.  He  sauntered 
around  to  the  barn  and  found  Daniel  at  work 
upon  the  horses. 

"Daniel,"  he  said,  "good-morning." 

"  Mornin',  sah,"  said  Daniel,  eyeing  him 
suspiciously. 

"  Nice  lot  of  stock  you  have  here,  Daniel." 

"Yes,  sah  ;  fine  stock." 

"  And  I  see  you  take  good  care  of  them. 
That  pony  shines  as  if  his  coat  had  been 
oiled." 

"  Dat  Missie  Laurie  pony,  sah." 

"  Ah  !  It's  a  fine  animal.  And  is  that  her 
phaeton  ?  " 

"Yes,  sah." 

Mark  was  standing  very  near  Daniel,  and 
suddenly  turned  and  looked  him  in  the  eye, 
knowingly. 

"  Daniel,"  he  said,  "are  you  all  right  on  the 
cause  of  freedom  ?  " 

"  Reckon  I  air,  sah." 

"Suppose  you  had  a  chance  to  favor  that 
cause,  the  cause  which,  if  it  triumphs,  will  make 
all  you  darkies  free,  would  you  do  it?" 

"  Reckon  I  would,  sah." 

"  Well,  suppose  a  Union  man  were  to  ask  you 
to " 

"  Yo'counterance  air  berry  faliliar  tome, sah." 


1 7  2  CHA  TTANOOGA . 

"  Do  I  look  like  Mr.  Slack  ?  " 

"  God  bress  de  Lawd  !  I  wonder  ef  y'air  Mr. 
Slack?" 

"  Or  the  colored  girl  who  came  here  the  other 
night,"  Mark  asked,  in  a  low,  confidential  tone. 

"  JV  de  Lawd !  " 

"  Never  mind  who  I  am,  Daniel.  I'm  a 
Union  man.  Now  I  want  you  to  go  into 
Chattanooga  and  learn  all  you  can  of  the  latest 
army  news.  Don't  trust  your  own  eyes,  but 
ask  people  what's  going  on.  I  want  to  know 
if  troops  are  leaving  Chattanooga,  and  if  so, 
where  they  are  going.  Here  are  ten  dollars. 
Buy  some  things  for  the  old  woman  and  the 
children,  and  ask  questions — of  other  people  I 
mean,  not  me." 

"  Trus*  me  fur  dat,"  said  the  old  man,  and 
dropping  his  work  he  began  to  harness  a  horse 
to  the  family  wagon. 

When  Mark  finished  smoking,  he  went  into 
the  house.  He  passed  into  the  library,  where 
he  found  Laura.  She  seemed  to  feel  easier 
than  when  Mark  had  been  upstairs,  but  she 
was  in  continued  dread.  Mark  asked  her  to 
sit  on  a  sofa  facing  one  window  while  he  sat 
facing  another.  "  Then  we'll  have  the  position 
enfiladed,"  he  said. 

Laura  did  not  understand  what  that  meant, 
but  she  did  as  he  desired. 


CHA  TTA  NOOGA .  173 

They  sat  thus  without  suffering  the  watch 
to  relax  during  three  delightful  hours — delight 
ful  notwithstanding  the  danger  Mark  was  in. 
Laura  wanted  an  account  of  his  adventures  in 
Chattanooga  and  he  gave  it.  When  she  came 
to  Souri's  part  in  his  escape,  Laura  was  visibly 
affected  ;  indeed,  so  intensely  were  her  feelings 
wrought  upon  by  this  portion  of  the  story 
that  she  started  at  every  sound,  realizing  the 
more  perfectly  that  Mark's  neck  was  still  in 
jeopardy. 

Then  came  an  account  of  the  trial ;  the 
march  to  the  court-room  ;  the  waiting  for  the 
counsel  ;  the  arrival  of  Captain  Cameron  Fitz 
Hugh. 

"Captain  Cameron  Fitz  Hugh  !  " 

Then  it  was  all  out  that  Laura's  lover  had 
defended  the  spy,  and  Laura  confessed  that  she 
was  Fitz  Hugh's  betrothed. 

In  the  midst  of  the  excitement  attending  all 
this,  Mrs.  Fain  entered,  carrying  a  silver  tray 
on  which  was  a  basket  of  cake  and  a  decanter 
and  glasses. 

"  A  little  luncheon  may  not  be  amiss,  Mr. 
Rhett."  she  said.  "  I  don't  know  your  South 
Carolina  customs  in  such  matters,  but  my 
daughter  and  I  occasionally  take  a  biscuit  at 
this  hour." 

Mark  rose  and  faced  about.     His  hand  went 


174  CHATTANOOGA. 

to  his  heart  and  he  bowed  low.  Laura  too 
rose  and  stood  looking  at  her  mother. 

"  Madam,"  said  Mark,  "  can  I  ever  forget 
this  kindness." 

"  If  you  will  discover  the  ore  you  seek  on 
our  property,  I  shall  feel  amply  repaid,"  said 
the  lady  sententiously. 

"  Trust  me,  madam,  I  will  have  diligent 
search  made." 

"  Are  you  a  geologist  ?  " 

"  None  but  a  geologist  would  be  hunting  for 
ore  in  the  government  service." 

Mark  stood  with  the  stem  of  a  wine  glass 
between  his  thumb  and  finger,  appropriating 
to  himself  such  impressemcnt  as  would  natur 
ally  fill  the  breast  of  a  South  Carolina  geolo 
gist  hunting  for  iron  with  which  to  make 
cannons  for  the  government. 

"  That  is  a  fascinating  study,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Fain,  who  was  a  great  reader  and  a  very 
intelligent  woman. 

Now  Mark,  though  an  educated  man,  and 
born  to  a  taste  for  the  sciences,  unfortunately 
knew  less  about  the  profession  he  had  tem 
porarily  adopted  than  any  other. 

"  There  are  some  curious  geological  facts," 
Mrs.  Fain  went  on,  "  which  always  interest  me. 
I  was  reading  yesterday  that  a  famous  geolo 
gist  has  said  that  centuries — I  have  forgotten 


CHA  TTA NOOGA .  175 

ho\v  many — were  consumed  while  Niagara 
Falls  were  wearing  their  way  from  Lewiston  to 
the  present  site.  How  long  was  it,  Professor? 
I'm  sure  you  have  that  title." 

"  It  could  not  have  been  less  than  five  hun 
dred  years,  madam  !  "  said  Mark,  laying  great 
stress  on  the  figures  as  something  enormous. 

"  Five  hundred !  I  thought  it  was  some 
thing  like  twenty  thousand." 

Mark  perceived  that  he  had  made  a  gross 
blunder,  but  it  would  never  do  for  him  to 
acknowledge  it. 

"  I  am  aware,"  he  said,  "  that  such  is  the 
opinion  of  a  certain  school  of  geologists  with 
more  assurance  than  brains.  I  refer  to  those 
scoffers  who  are  continuously  trying  to  find 
evidence  against  the  Mosaic  account  of  crea 
tion,  but  I  regard  their  position  untenable." 

There  was  a  pleased  look  on  Mrs.  Fain's 
countenance.  She  belonged  to  the  Baptist 
denomination,  and  believed  thoroughly  that 
the  world  was  made  in  six  days  of  twenty-four 
hours  each. 

"  Professor,"  she  said,  withdrawing  from  the 
room  at  the  same  time,  "  I  trust  that  you  will 
remain  in  the  neighborhood  along  while,  and  I 
beg  you  to  honor  us  by  making  this  house  your 
home  in  the  mean  time." 

Mark  was  standing  with  a  half  filled  glass  of 


T  7  6  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

wine  in  his  left  hand,  while  his  right  was  on  his 
heart.  Mrs.  Fain  made  her  exit  through  the 
door  by  which  she  had  come,  opening  into  the 
dining-room.  As  the  door  closed  Mark  was 
bending  to  the  floor,  admirably  representing  a 
South  Carolina  gentleman  of  the  olden  time. 

He  heard  something  like  a  low  cry — half 
surprised,  half  terror — from  Laura.  Turning 
quickly  toward  her  he  saw  her  eyes  fixed  in  a 
stare  on  some  object  at  the  door  opening  into 
the  hall.  Another  turn  of  his  head,  and  there 
stood  the  figure  of  Captain  Cameron  Fitz 
Hugh. 

Twice  before  had  Mark  seen  that  face  ;  once 
when  Fitz  Hugh  had  approached  the  Fain 
house  the  morning  Mark  had  left  it  for  Chat 
tanooga,  and  once  when  the  young  Confederate 
had  defended  him  at  his  trial. 

No  sooner  had  Captain  Fitz  Hugh  laid  eyes 
on  Mark's  face  than  he  recognized  the  spy  he 
had  defended  at  Chattanooga. 

"  Professor,"  he  said  coolly,  "  you  are  very 
adroit." 

Mark  turned  scarlet,  and  then  ashy  pale. 
For  a  moment  it  seemed  that  his  legs  would 
not  support  him.  It  required  time  for  him  to 
collect  himself,  to  make  any  reply  whatever. 

"Since  you  are  so  good  at  extricating  your 
self  from  difficulties,  you  have  a  fine  opportu- 


CffA  TTAtfOOGA .  177 

nity  to  show  your  skill  now."  Fitz  Hugh 
spoke  with  his  hand  on  the  handle  of  his 
pistol.  "  May  I  trouble  you  to  throw  up  your 
hands,  professor  f  " 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  said  Mark.  "  I  am 
unarmed." 

A  picture  of  his  certain  fate  flashed  across 
his  mind,  and  he  wished  Fitz  Hugh  would 
shoot  him. 

"  On  your  word  of  honor  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  ask  such  a  question  ?  You 
know  that  I  am  an  arch  deceiver." 

"  At  any  rate,  you  are  a  gentleman.  Never 
mind  throwing  up  your  hands." 

Meanwhile  Mark  had  been  giving  his  heart 
time  to  cease  thumping,  and  had  gathered  his 
wits. 

Laura  remained  silent,  staring  at  them  both 
as  though  she  had  lost  her  reason.  Had  she  a 
hundred  things  to  say  her  tongue  could  not 
have  been  made  to  utter  one. 

Mark  turned  toward  Fitz  Hugh  and  looked 
him  square  in  the  face.  He  had  conceived  an 
idea  ;  a  forlorn  hope,  it  is  true,  still  a  hope. 
Quick  to  discern  people's  peculiarities,  he  had 
gotten  an  insight  into  Fitz  Hugh's  character 
when  that  officer  had  defended  him  at  Chatta 
nooga.  He  now  resolved  to  take  advantage  of 
that  knowledge. 


1 7  8  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

"  Captain,"  he  said,  "  notwithstanding  the 
position  in  which  you  saw  me  a  few  days  ago  ; 
notwithstanding  the  painful  situation  in  which 
you  see  me  now  ;  you  have  on  both  occasions 
done  me  the  honor  to  consider  me  a  gentle 
man.  I  assume  to  a  perception  in  this  respect 
not  less  keen  than  yours.  Indeed,  so  sure 
am  I  of  the  delicacy,  the  refinement  of  your 
instincts,  that  I  feel  perfectly  safe  under  this 
roof." 

"  How  so  ?  "  asked  Fitz  Hugh,  surprised. 

"  I  am  the  guest  of  that  young  lady." 

Mark  stood  with  his  arm  outstretched,  his 
finger  pointing  to  Laura  Fain.  Laura  gave  a 
glance  at  Mark  as  he  spoke,  which  caught  the 
eye  of  Captain  Fitz  Hugh.  It  contained  ad 
miration,  devotion.  Fitz  Hugh  gazed  from 
the  one  to  the  other  without  a  word. 

"  I  need  not  explain  further,  Captain,"  Mark 
added.  "  A  gentleman  cannot  mistake  my  po 
sition  ;  only  a  gentleman  can  understand  it." 

"You  mean,  sir,"  said  Fitz  Hugh,  "that  I 
cannot  honorably  enter  this  house  and  profit, 
or  cause  my  country  to  profit,  by  what  I  find 
here  without  the  consent  of  the  inmates." 

"  I  do." 

"  Mrs.  Fain  is  the  acknowledged  head  of  this 
house,  and  she  is  evidently  deceived.  But  I 
concede  to  Miss  Fain  the  right  to  speak  for 


CHATTANOOGA.  179 

her.  I  acknowledge  Miss  Pain's  right  to  hold 
me  to  this  secret,  if  any  one  has  such  a  right. 
But  when  Miss  Fain  shall  have  been  fully  ad 
vised  of  all  the  facts " 

"  Pardon  me ;  she  knows  all  you  know." 
"  Then,  when  Miss  Fain  shall  have  duly  con 
sidered  the  interests  of  her  country,  I  am  quite 
sure  she  will  give  her  consent. '- 

The  attention  of  both  men  became  fixed 
upon  Laura,  for  it  was  evident  that  she  would 
be  called  upon  to  make  a  decision  between  her 
country  and  her  lover  on  the  one  hand,  and 
the  defenseless  Union  spy  on  the  other.  She 
was  standing  near  the  sofa,  on  which  she  had 
been  sitting,  steadying  herself  by  resting  her 
hand  on  the  back  of  a  chair.  It  was  a  moment 
of  intensest  feeling  to  all  three.  Laura  knew 
the  sterling  worth,  the  high  sense  of  honor  and 
duty  of  her  lover.  She  knew  that  if  she  held 
him  to  secrecy  he  would  consider  it  evidence 
that  she  permitted  her  interest  in  the  spy  to 
overwhelm  her  sense  of  duty.  And  would  he 
not  attribute  her  protection  to  something  more 
tender  than  an  ordinary  interest?  Fitz  Hugh 
realized  her  position  ;  indeed  there  seemed  to 
flash  into  both  of  them  the  feeling  that  her 
decision  would  lie  between  two  men — her  lover 
and  the  Federal  spy.  With  Mark  it  was  a 
question  of  life  or  death. 


i  80  ctfA  TTANOOGA. 

"  Miss  Fain — Laura,"  said  Fitz  Hugh,  speak 
ing  slowly  and  impressively,  "  I  ask  your  per 
mission  to  give  up  this  impostor — pardon  me, 
sir,  for  the  plainness  of  my  language ;  it  is  es 
sential — this  spy,  who  desires  to  carry  informa 
tion  north  to  the  detriment  of  our  country  ; 
who  seeks  the  defeat  of  our  cause — the  cause 
in  which  your  brother  is  every  day  risking  his 
life ;  lastly — though  this  may  be  a  matter  of 
small  importance — the  cause  for  which  I,  your 
lover,  would  lay  down  my  life  as  I  would  lay  it 
down  for  you.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  a 
question  between  your  duty  and  your  inclina 
tion.  Does  it  seem  so  to  you  ?  " 

"  It  does." 

"Then  tell  me;  may  I  send  for  a  guard  to 
take  him?" 

Laura's  eyes  shone  like  those  of  a  tigress  at 
bay.  In  a  firm,  clear  voice,  she  said : 

"No!" 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  the  stillness 
of  death. 

"  She  has  decided  in  your  favor,  sir,"  said 
Fitz  Hugh,  whose  color  left  his  cheek  when 
Laura  spoke  the  little  word  that  decided  his 
and  Mark's  fate.  "  You  have  nothing  to  fear 
from  me."  Then  turning  to  Laura: 

"I  can  understand  the  motive,  the  tempta 
tion.  The  act  remains." 


CHA  T  TA  NOOGA .  1 8 1 

"  You  may  consider  yourself  released  from 
all  ties  with  one  whose  act  you  do  not  ap 
prove,"  said  Laura. 

"Be  it  so,"  and  he  turned  to  go. 

Mark  sprang  forward  and  seized  him  by  the 
wrist. 

"  My  God !  this  shall  not  be.  You  believe 
that  this  is  due  to  more  than  an  ordinary 
womanly  interest  in  Miss  Fain  for  me.  It  is 
not  so.  I  swear  to  you,  on  the  honor  of  a  gen 
tleman  and  a  soldier,  that  Miss  Fain  has  mani 
fested  no  other  feeling  than  one  of  commisera 
tion  for  a  man  hunted  for  his  life." 

"  Your  words  do  you  credit,  sir.  Miss  Fain, 
will  you  make  my  adieus  to  your  mother,  and 
I  leave  it  to  you  to  impart  to  her  whatever,  if 
anything,  you  may  have  to  say  as  to  the  reason 
for  my  farewell  to  you." 

Despite  the  stateliness  with  which  the  words 
were  spoken,  there  was  an  indescribable  sad 
ness  in  the  "  farewell."  He  turned  quickly  and 
left  the  room,  and  in  another  moment  they  saw 
him  ride  down  the  roadway  to  the  gate  with 
out  once  looking  back. 


XVIII. 

OFF   FOR   THE   UNION   LINES. 

MARK'S  first  impulse  after  Fitz  Hugh's  de 
parture  was  to  leave  the  house  at  once. 
He  tried  to  say  something  to  Laura,  to  soothe 
her,  to  excuse  his  own  unfortunate  part  in  her 
breaking  with  her  lover.  He  could  only  go  to 
her  and,  taking  her  hand,  kissed  it  without  a 
word.  Then  he  told  her  that  he  should  take 
the  risk  of  capture  and  depart  instantly. 

He  was  discoursing  upon  the  method  of  his  de 
parture  in  quick,  excited  tones,  when  a  horse 
man  entered  the  yard,  and  riding  up  to  the  ve 
randa,  drew  a  letter  from  his  belt  and  handed  it 
to  a  negro  who  went  out  to  receive  it.  It  was 
for  Mrs.  Fain.  It  had  been  sent  through  the 
lines  from  Nashville,  where  her  husband  was 
lying  dangerously  ill,  and  begged  her  to  come 
to  him. 

After  its  perusal  Mrs.  Fain  determined  to  set 
out  the  next  day,  taking  with  her  her  daughter 
and  the  maid  Alice.  Daniel  would  drive 
them. 

"  You  shall  go  with  us,"  said  Laura  to  Mark. 
183 


CHA  TTA NOOGA .  1 83 

"This  is  fortunate,  In  our  company  you  will 
be  far  safer  than  trying  to  make  your  way  alone." 

It  occured  to  Mark  that  since  he  was  being 
hunted  as  a  half-starved  creature  in  the  dis 
guise  of  a  negro  girl,  he  would  be  less  liable  to 
suspicion  as  a  well-dressed  man  traveling  with 
a  party  of  Southern  ladies  than  in  any  other 
character.  At  any  rate  he  took  this  view  of  it, 
and  when  Mrs.  Fain  announced  her  intention 
to  go,  he  offered  to  escort  the  party  to  the 
Union  lines.  The  offer  was  accepted  and  prep 
arations  made  to  leave  the  next  morning.  Mrs. 
Fain  wrote  a  note  to  the  officer  in  command 
at  Chattanooga  (to  send  with  the  letter  she  had 
received  from  her  husband  for  his  perusal),  ask 
ing  for  a  pass  for  herself,  her  daughter,  and 
two  servants.  Mark  took  the  missives  and 
went  out  to  find  Daniel,  who  had  just  returned 
from  Chattanooga. 

"Well,  Daniel?" 

"  I  been  dar." 

"  What  did  you  learn  ?  " 

"  I  hearn  ebery  one  talken  'bout  sojers  goen 
to  'de  Norf,  and  dey  sayd  day  was  goen  t' 
Knoxville.  Dey  was  marchen  'n  marchen  all  de 
same  way.  I  follered  'n  dey  brung  up  at  de 
depot ;  'n  I  sor  one  train  arfter  anudder  go  out 
full  o'  sojers  inside  and  hangen  on  to  de  plat 
form  and  on  de  roofs." 


184  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  How  many  trains  did  you  see  go  out  ?  " 

"  'Bout  forty  hundred." 

"  Daniel,"  said  Mark,  smiling  at  the  figures, 
"  you're  smart  as  a  whip.  But  you'll  have  to 
go  right  back  to  Chattanooga,  and  take  this  note 
to  the  commanding  officer  with  this  letter 
from  your  sick  master  to  show  him.  The  note 
is  a  request  for  a  pass  for  the  party  to  the 
Union  lines.  Keep  your  wits  about  you,  and 
if  he  is  an  easy  going  sort  of  a  man,  you  might 
try  to  get  him  to  put  in  three  servants  instead 
of  two.  At  any  rate  try  to  ring  me  in  if  you 
can.  Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Reckon  I  do,  sah." 

"  Can  you  read  ?  " 

"  A  leetle.     Missie  Laura  larned  me." 

"  Well,  read  the  pass  he  may  give  you  and 
ask  him  to  fix  it  so  that  it  will  include  me  as  a 
servant.  But  you  must  use  your  judgment." 

Daniel  drove  again  to  Chattanooga.  Mark- 
waited  anxiously  for  his  return.  Indeed,  so 
impatient  was  he  that  he  thought  the  negro 
had  gone  twice  as  long  as  he  had  when  he  saw 
him  drive  into  the  yard.  He  at  once  went  out 
to  the  barn  to  meet  him. 

"  Any  luck  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

"  I  got  de  pass  fur  Misses  and  de  res',  but  I 
didn't  get  what  yo  wanted.  I  got  a  paper 
hyar.  Mebbe  it'll  do." 


CHATTANOOGA.  185 

Mark  took  the  paper.  It  was  a  pass  for 
Thomas  Green  and  wife  from  Chattanooga  to 
the  Union  lines. 

"How  did  you  get  this?"  asked  Mark,  surprised. 

"  I  hab  to  wait  while  folks  was  getten  passes. 
De  officer  go  out  to  de  udder  room  fur  a 
moment.  Dis  was  layen  on  de  desk  'n  I  tuk 
hit  up  and  brung  hit  away." 

"  Well,"  said  Mark,  <l  it's  not  exactly  what 
I  want,  but  ingenuity  will  have  to  help  me 
through.  You're  a  trump,  Daniel." 

.  In  the  morning,  when  all  was  ready  for  the 
departure,  two  vehicles  were  brought  around 
to  the  door,  the  one  a  two-horse  carriage,  the 
other  Laura's  phaeton  drawn  by  her  pony. 
Mrs.  Fain  entered  the  former  with  Alice, 
Daniel  being  in  the  driver's  seat.  Laura  and 
Mark  got  into  the  phaeton. 

Mark  took  the  lead,  designing  to  make  for 
Battle  Creek.  The  distance  was  not  twenty 
miles,  and  he  knew  that  they  could  make  it  in 
a  few  hours.  It  was  a  bold  game  he  was  play 
ing,  but  the  proximity  of  the  halter  was  wear 
ing  on  him,  and  he  desired  to  get  rid  of  suspense. 
Besides,  his  presence,  connected  with  his 
critical  situation,  was  wearing  on  Laura.  He, 
therefore,  felt  an  exhilarating  pleasure  when 
they  drove  out  of  the  gate  and  trotted  along 
the  pike  westward.  Hope  cheered  him. 


1 86  CHA  TTAXOOGA . 

All  went  well  during  the  first  ten  or  twelve 
miles,  when  Mark  received  a  piece  of  informa 
tion  which  seriously  interfered  with  his  plan. 
Meeting  a  courier  riding  toward  Chattanooga, 
who  looked  as  if  he  might  be  the  bearer  of 
some  important  news,  Mark  hailed  him  and 
asked  if  he  had  anything  from  the  front. 

"  The  Yankees  air  getten  no'th  right  smart," 
the  man  replied.  "  Reckon  th1  air  left  Battle 
Creek." 

Mark  argued  that  if  this  were  true  there 
would  be  confusion  on  that  route,  and  it  would 
be  better  to  take  another.  They  were  not  far 
from  the  road  leading  from  the  Chattanooga 
pike  north  to  Anderson,  on  which  the  Slacks 
lived.  Mark  concluded  to  take  this  road  as  far 
as  Anderson,  and  then  strike  west  with  a  view 
to  reaching  McMinnville  on  the  other  side  of 
the  mountains.  Mrs.  Fain  left  all  to  Professor 
Rhett,  in  whom  she  had  perfect  confidence,  and 
on  coming  to  the  road  in  question  Mark  led  the 
party  northward. 

The  change  of  route  was  unfortunate,  inas 
much  as  it  would  add  another  day  to  the  jour 
ney.  The  departure  from  the  Fain  residence 
had  been  delayed  by  the  preparations  till  nearly 
noon.  McMinnville  was  a  considerable  dis 
tance  over  the  mountain,  and  Mark  knew  they 
could  not  reach  it  that  night.  He  remembered 


CHATTANOOGA.  18? 

that  they  would  soon  pass  the  Slack's,  and  it 
occurred  to  him  that  it  would  be  a  capital  place 
to  pass  the  night,  giving  them  a  good  day  of 
twelve  hours  light  on  the  morrow  to  pursue 
their  journey.  His  disappointment  at  the  de 
lay  was  compensated  for  by  the  thought  that 
he  would  likely  learn  something  of  Souri  and 
Jakey,  of  whom  he  had  heard  nothing  since  he 
left  them  in  the  Chattanooga  jail. 

Mark  told  Laura  of  his  plan.  She  was  dis 
tressed  at  the  delay.  Something  seemed  to 
tell  her  that  -  it  would  bring  trouble.  But 
Mark's  reasoning  was  unanswerable  and  there 
seemed  nothing  else  to  do.  If  they  must 
spend  a  night  anywhere  it  would  better 
be  among  those  upon  whom  Mark  could 
rely. 

At  last  they  drove  up  at  the  Slack's  gate. 
Mark  handed  the  reins  to  Laura  and  jumped 
from  the  phaeton  impatiently.  Not  seeing  any 
one  in  the  front  of  the  house,  he  proceeded  to 
the  rear.  The  first  person  he  met  was  Jakey. 
He  took  the  boy  up  and  hugged  him. 

"Are  you  glad  to  see  your  big  brother, 
Jakey?" 

"Airth"  corn  ripe?" 

Souri  came  out  of  the  house,  her  big  eyes 
glistening  and  her  expressive  face  radiant  with 
pleasure  and  excitement.  She  had  heard  noth- 


1 88  CHA  TTANOOGA . 

ing  of  Mark  since  he  left  her  in  prison.  Mark 
seized  her  by  both  hands. 

"You  uns  air  safe.  I  knowed  it,"  she  said, 
almost  in  a  whisper.  She  could  hardly  speak 
for  joy. 

"  For  the  present,  Souri,    thanks  to  you." 

Mark  asked  no  questions  then.  He  knew 
that  they  were  safe  and  at  home,  and  he 
hastened  to  inform  them,  and  the  father  and 
mother  who  came  out  to  welcome  him,  that  he 
was  with  a  party  who  was  unaware  of  his  true 
character,  which  they  must  not  betray,  and 
desired  permission  to  stay  in  the  house  over 
night.  Then  he  led  them  around  to  the  gate. 
Daniel  had  meanwhile  caught  up,  and  the  two 
vehicles  were  halted  in  the  road. 

"  We  will  spend  the  night  with  these  good 
people,"  said  Mark.  "  They  are  quite  willing 
and  will  make  us  as  comfortable  as  possible." 

The  party  alighted  and  the  horses  were 
driven  to  the  barn.  Mrs.  Fain  and  her  daughter 
were  given  the  room  in  which  Mark  had 
changed  his  clothes  when  he  went  through  to 
the  South,  and  Mark  was  assigned  a  bivouac 
on  the  gallery,  or  in  the  barn,  or  any  other 
place  he  might  select. 

An  apology  for  a  meal  was  carried  in  to  Mrs. 
Fain  and  Laura,  which  they  left  untasted, 
preferring  a  luncheon  they  had  brought  with 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  1 89 

them  in  a  basket.  After  supper  Laura  came 
out  and  begged  Mark  to  bring  Souri  and 
Jakey  to  speak  to  her.  She  smoothed  Jakey's 
tumbled  hair  out  of  his  eyes  and  asked  him  if 
he  remembered  her.  Jakey  was  about  to  re 
ply  in  his  usual  fashion  when  he  checked  him 
self,  and  for  the  first  time  since  Mark  had 
known  him  answered  directly.  Souri  stood, 
eyeing  Laura  from  the  corners  of  her  black 
eyes,  with  a  mingled  expression  of  admiration 
and  antagonism.  Laura  spoke  to  her  kindly, 
but  got  only  monosyllables  in  reply. 

Mark  passed  the  evening  with  the  Slack 
family,  listening  to  a  recital  of  Souri's  and 
Jakey's  experience  after  he  had  left  them  in 
the  jail  at  Chattanooga,  and  he  gave  them  an 
account  of  his  own  adventures. 

After  all  were  asleep  that  night  Mark  took 
Farmer  Slack  out  into  the  yard  where  they 
could  converse  unheard,  and  developed  a  plan 
he  had  conceived  for  Souri  and  Jakey. 

"  It  is  due  to  your  son  and  daughter,"  he 
said,  "  that  I  am  here  at  this  moment ;  indeed, 
that  I  am  alive.  I  .belong  to  a  wealthy  fam 
ily  and  am  wealthy  myself.  It  only  requires 
means  to  make  a  splendid  woman  of  the  girl 
and  a  fine  man  of  the  boy ;  for  means  will  pro 
duce  education,  and  education  is  the  open  door 
to  a  desirable  career.  I  am  going  to  leave 


190  CHATTANOOGA. 

with  you  a  letter  to  my  father  in  Ohio,  which 
will  contain  an  order  for  a  sufficient  amount  of 
money  to  insure  both  Jakey  and  Souri  an  edu 
cation.  Take  or  send  them  North,  present  the 
letter,  and  you  will  find  everything  provided 
for  you.  Souri  may  not  consent  at  once,  but 
doubtless  she  will  in  time.  Now,  I  must  have 
pen  and  paper." 

"  You  uns  is  a  good'  un,  stranger.  You  treat 
us  far.  Hadn't  you  better  send  the  letter  when 
y'  git  no'th  ?  " 

"  No.  I  must  write  it  to-night.  I  am  by  no 
means  safe ;  my  neck  is  still  in  a  halter." 

The  man  led  the  way  to  his  bedroom,  where 
the  old  woman  was  asleep.  There  he  produced 
writing  materials,  and  Mark  wrote  an  order 
which,  whether  he  lived  or  not,  insured  the  fu 
ture  of  his  two  friends,  his  preservers  among 
the  "  poor  white  trash  "  of  Tennessee. 

Mrs.  Fain  and  her  daughter  began  their 
preparations  for  sleep  early.  From  the  time 
of  her  earliest  childhood  Laura  had  yielded  to 
a  feminine  habit  of  looking  under  the  bed  be 
fore  getting  into  it.  The  troublous  times  had 
only  aggravated  this  disposition.  True,  guer 
rillas — the  main  objects  of  dread  in  those  war 
days — unlike  the  traditional  robber,  did  not 
conceal  themselves  under  beds.  It  might  be 
supposed  that  Laura  would  not  look  for  a  rob- 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  191 

her  in  the  house  of  a  poor  white  man  like 
Farmer  Slack.  For  one  to  conceal  himself 
there,  to  crawl  out  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
for  the  purpose  of  stealing  jewelry,  would  be 
absurd.  Nevertheless,  the  force  of  habit  was 
strong  in  Laura,  and  before  getting  into  the 
bed  she  stooped  and  looked  under  it. 

Mark,  it  will  be  remembered,  had  left  his 
uniform  and  arms  under  this  very  bed.  Laura 
saw  a  suspicious  dark  mass  and  started  back 
with  what  for  want  of  a  better  name  may  be 
called  a  shrieklet.  But  Laura  was  no  coward, 
and  returning  to  the  attack,  she  dragged  out 
the  belongings  of  private  Mark  Malone. 

"What  do  you  suppose  it  means,  mamma?" 

"  I  fear,"  replied  the  mother,  "  that  we  shall 
be  murdered  before  morning." 

"  Why  ?  "  asked  Laura,  aghast. 

"  These  people  are  doubtless  guerrillas,  or 
this  place  is  the  haunt  of  a  guerrilla  band.  They 
have  murdered  a  Union  soldier  and  hidden  his 
garments  under  the  bed.  Be  careful,  my  child, 
that  gun  is  loaded  ;  it  may  go  off." 

"  But,  mamma,"  said  Laura,  who  had  mean 
while  recovered  her  equanimity,  "  I  don't  think 
Professor  Rhett  would  permit  us  to  stop  at  a 
place  where  we  would  be  murdered." 

"  Dress  yourself  at  once,  Laura,  and  find  the 
professor:  tell  him  what  you  have  discovered." 


19^  CHATTANOOGA. 

Mrs.  Fain  would  not  be  satisfied  till  her 
daughter  did  as  she  desired.  Mark  was  called 
from  the  company  of  the  Slack  family,  and  in 
formed  of  the  threatening  danger. 

To  Laura's  relief,  his  face,  serious  when  she 
began,  broke  into  a  smile  as  she  proceeded. 

"  That's  one  of  my  stage  costumes,"  he  said, 
"  for  a  character  which  you  have  not  yet  seen 
me  perform.  Go  to  bed  and  have  no  fear,  for  I 
shall  roll  myself  in  a  blanket  and  sleep  on  the 
gallery  at  your  door.  Only  be  ready  to  hand 
me  my  carbine  and  pistol  in  case  I  require 
them." 

"  Mamma,"  said  Laura,  when  she  returned  to 
her  mother,  "  Professor  Rhett  says  that  those 
clothes  belong  to  a  Union  soldier  who  passed 
through  here  about  a  week  ago  to  go  to  Chat 
tanooga,  as  a  spy  on  the  movements  of  our 
troops." 

"  I  hope  he  has  been  caught  and  hanged  by 
this  time,"  said  Mrs.  Fain,  with  spirit. 

"  Well,  if  he  hasn't,  and  comes  back  to-night 
and  tries  to  get  in  here,  the  professor  will  shoot 
him,  because  he  told  me  to  be  ready  to  hand 
him  his  rifle." 

Such  is  the  effect  of  evil  communications. 
Laura  Fain  was  becoming  as  accomplished  a 
deceiver  as  Mark  Malone. 

The  night  was  passed  with  snatches  of  sleep 


CHATTANOOGA.  *9  3 

by  all  the  party.  In  the  morning,  after  the 
pork  and  corn-bread  meal  of  the  country,  the 
travelers  again  got  into  the  carriages.  While 
they  were  standing  before  the  gate  prior  to  de 
parture,  Mark  saw  Souri  out  by  the  well-house. 
He  went  there  to  bid  her  good-by. 

"  Souri,"  he  said,  "  I  wish  there  was  some  way 
in  which  I  could  show  you  the  gratitude  I  feel 
toward  you.  When  I  think  of  my  fate,  had  you 
not  appeared  in  the  nick  of  time  to  save  me  by 
your  wit,  and  daring,  and  sacrifice,  I  feel  that  I 
would  like  to  make  some  corresponding  sac 
rifice  for  you." 

"  Laws,  I  didn't  do  nothen.  Besides,"  she 
leaned  over  the  well,  and  looked  down  into  its 
depths,  "you  uns  and  me  is  too  differ.  You 
uns  is  a  gentleman  and  I  air  poor  white  trash." 

There  was  an  inexpressible  melancholy  in  her 
tone. 

"  Souri,"  Mark  went  on,  "  I  have  made  an 
arrangement  with  your  father  to  make  a  lady  of 
you.  I  can't  make  such  a  sacrifice  for  you  as  you 
have  made  for  me ;  that  is  impossible  ;  but  I  can 
do  this  if  you  will  act  with  me  and  consent  to 
the  plan.  I  shall  be  off  in  a  moment,  and  before 
I  go  I  want  you  to  promise  me  that  you  will 
consent.  I.  am  still  in  danger,  and  you  must 
grant  me  this,  as  perhaps  a  last  favor." 

The  girl  burst  into  tears. 


194  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  Promise." 

"  I  don't  keer  what  I  do." 

"  Do  you  promise  ?  " 

"Yas,  I  promise." 

With  a  pressure  of  the  hand  he  turned  away, 
and  stalking  to  the  gate,  got  into  the  carriage 
beside  Laura.  Daniel  and  Mrs.  Fain  had  started. 
Mark  followed,  and  had  gone  but  a  short  dis 
tance  when  he  heard  Jakey  calling  to  him.  He 
pulled  in  the  pony  and  waited  for  the  boy  to 
come  up.  Jakey  was  holding  something  out 
to  him,  which,  as  he  drew  nearer,  Mark  recog 
nized  as  the  red  silk  handkerchief. 

"  Souri  sent  it  ter  y'." 

"Tell  her  that  I'll  never  part  with  it." 

"  'N  I  got  the  squirrel  gun,"  said  the  boy. 

"All  right,  Jakey;  keep  it  to  remember  me 
by." 

Mark  grasped  the  boy's  hand  and  then  drove 
on.  Laura  Fain  leaned  back  on  the  cushions 
in  silence. 


XIX. 

THOMAS    GREEN    AND    WIFE. 

MARK  designed  driving  to  Anderson,  some 
twelve  miles  from  the  Slacks'  house, 
whence  he  knew  there  was  a  road  leading  up 
in  the  mountains  through  a  place  called  Alta- 
mont,  some  twenty  miles  further,  to  McMinn- 
ville.  He  was  informed  by  people  he  met  on 
the  road  that  Altamont  had  been  recently  oc 
cupied  in  force  by  the  Union  troops.  With 
luck  they  might  reach  the  Union  lines,  which 
would  doubtless  extend  several  miles  from 
Altamont,  that  afternoon. 

"  Within  six  hours,"  said  Mark,  "  I  shall 
either  be  safe  among  Union  soldiers  or  on  my 
way  back  to  Chattanooga." 

Laura  shuddered,  but  said  nothing. 

Mark  found  a  very  different  condition  of  af 
fairs  at  Anderson  from  what  he  had  found 
along  the  road.  The  Confederates  had  some 
cavalry  force  there,  and  more  at  Dunlap,  five 
miles  north.  On  the  road  he  heard  that  Gen 
eral  Bragg  was  at  Dunlap,  but  with  no  troops 
save  cavalry. 

195 


i  96  CHA  TTAtfOOGA. 

"  I  see  it  all,"  said  the  spy  to  himself,  "  the 
wily  fox  is  confronting  our  forces  with  a  hand 
ful  of  cavalry,  while  the  two  divisions  of 
Cheatham  and  Withers  are  marching  north 
behind  him,  and  the  main  force  has  gone  to 
Knoxville  by  rail  on  a  line  still  further  east. 
No  wonder  our  generals  are  puzzled  and 
watching  a  line  from  Battle  Creek  to  Cumber 
land  Gap.  If  the  Lord  will  only  let  me  get 
through  to  carry  this  information,  I'll  never  ask 
to  live  to  go  on  another  such  expedition." 

The  party  were  stopped  near  Anderson  by  a 
picket.  Mrs.  Fain  produced  her  pass  and 
stated  that  the  two  behind  were  in  her  com 
pany.  The  officer  took  no  especial  care  in 
reading  it,  and  when  Mark  and  Laura  came  up 
they  got  safely  through  without  question. 

Mark  was  now  anxious  about  the  picket 
which  must  be  passed  in  a  few  minutes  on  the 
road  leading  west  from  Anderson.  Mrs.  Fain 
was  still  ahead,  and  he  hoped  that  all  would 
go  as  well  as  at  the  picket  just  passed.  Not  a 
word  was  spoken  between  him  and  Laura ; 
both  dreaded  getting  out  of  Anderson,  but 
once  past  the  next  picket  they  would  breathe 
easier. 

When  they  reached  it,  Mrs.  Fain  had  been 
passed  through  and  gone  on.  The  officer  in 
command,  however,  had  read  the  pass  car.e- 


CHATTANOOGA.  197 

fully.  He  had  not  noticed  any  mention  of 
Mark  in  it. 

"  Where's  your  pass?  "  he  asked. 

"  Didn't  the  lady  ahead  show  it  to  you  ?  " 
asked  Mark. 

"  Her  pass  didn't  include  you." 

"Didn't  it?"  Mark  feigned  surprise. 

"  No." 

"Oh,  I  forgot ;  mine  and  my  wife's  is  sepa 
rate,"  and  he  drew  out  the  pass  of  "  Thomas 
Green  and  wife." 

Meanwhile  Laura  had  turned  white  as  a 
cloth.  The  officer  read  the  pass,  and  would 
doubtless  have  let  them  go  on,  had  he  not 
noticed  Laura's  agitation. 

"You'll  have  to  go  back  to  headquarters  and 
get  Major  Taliaferro's  order  on  that.  He  com 
mands  at  Anderson." 

Mark  remonstrated.  He  argued  that  he 
would  become  separated  from  Mrs.  Fain  ;  he 
urged  his  wife's  desire  to  reach  her  sick  father. 
All  in  vain.  He  was  told  that  the  headquar 
ters  were  only  half  a  mile  down  the  road,  and 
he  would  lose  but  little  time.  He  made  a  vir 
tue  of  necessity  and  drove  back  with  apparent 
good  nature. 

When  he  reached  the  house  that  was  pointed 
out  to  him  as  headquarters,  he  left  Laura  in 
the  phaeton  and  went  inside.  The  command- 


I98  CHATTANOOGA. 

ing  officer  had  gone  to  Dunlap,  five  miles 
away,  to  pay  his  respects  to  General  Bragg, 
and  would  not  be  back  for  an  hour  or  two. 

Mark  resolved  to  report  his  absence  to  the 
officer  of  the  picket  post,  in  the  hope  that  he 
would  not  be  compelled  to  wait.  He  drove  to 
the  picket,  and  used  his  tongue  persuasively, 
but  to  no  purpose.  The  more  anxious  he 
seemed  the  more  resolved  grew  the  captain. 

There  seemed  to  be  nothing  to  do  but  re 
turn  and  await  the  arrival  of  the  commanding 
officer.  Mark  reluctantly  turned  the  horse's 
head  and  drove  back  to  headquarters.  Laura's 
heart  sank  within  her. 

It  was  sunset  when  Major  Taliaferro,  a  pleas 
ant  looking  man  of  twenty-seven  or  twenty- 
eight,  rode  up  to  the  door,  and  turning  his 
horse  over  to  an  orderly  entered  the  office. 

"  Major  Taliaferro  ?"  asked  Mark. 

"  At  your  service,  sir." 

"  Major,  I  have  been  detained  by  the  officer 
at  the  picket,  who  wants  your  name  on  my 
pass.  My  wife's  mother  has  gone  on  and  her 
daughter  is  very  anxious  to  join  her.  It  is  ex 
tremely  unfortunate  for  us  to  get  so  far  sepa 
rated  from  Mrs.  Fain." 

"  Fain  ?  of  the  Fains  of  Chattanooga  ?  " 

"  The  same." 

"  I  have  heard  of  the  family,  but  have  never 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  199 

had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  any  member  of  it. 
One  of  my  friends  is  engaged  to  Miss  Fain.  I 
have  just  parted  from  him  at  Dunlap." 

Mark  and  Laura  cast  a  quick  glance  at 
each  other, — a  glance  of  terror  on  the  part 
of  Laura. 

"  We  are  fortunate  in  falling  into  your  hands," 
said  Mark,  "  and  I  beg  you  will  not  delay  us  a 
moment."  And  Mark  handed  him  the  pass. 

"Certainly  not."  And  the  major  took  up  a 
pen  to  write  his  endorsement.  First  he  read 
the  pass  carefully.  He  was  thinking  of  what  his 
friend  Fitz  Hugh  had  told  him  of  the  Fains. 
He  was  under  the  impression  that  there  was 
but  one  daughter. 

"  Mr.  Green,"  he  said,  looking  up  from  the 
pass,  "hadn't  you  better  stay  here  overnight? 
The  road  is  mountainous  and  infested  by  guer 
rillas.  It  is  positively  dangerous  to  travel." 

"  By  no  means.  What  would  Mrs.  Fain 
think  of  our  not  joining  her  on  the  road  ?  '' 

"  It  is  dangerous  for  her  as  well  as  you.  I'll 
send  a  messenger  after  her  to  advise  her  stop 
ping  at  some  farm-house.  I'll  do  better  than 
that.  I'll  send  a  corporal  and  half  a  dozen  men 
to  insure  her  safety  till  morning." 

There  was  something  in  the  man's  tone, 
polite  as  it  was,  that  indicated  to  Mark  that 
he  was  held  for  further  information. 


200  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  As  you  please,  Major." 

"And  I  shall  insist  upon  your  accepting  my 
hospitality.  One  connected  in  any  way  with 
my  friend  Fitz  Hugh  must  not  want  for  any 
comfort  I  can  supply." 

The  house  occupied  by  Major  Taliaferro  be 
longed  to  a  family  who  had  gladly  given  up  a 
portion  of  it  for  the  safety  insured  by  the  pres 
ence  of  a  commanding  officer.  The  major  was 
given  a  room  downstairs  for  an  office,  and  a 
bedroom  upstairs.  When  it  was  decided  that 
Mark  and  Laura  should  remain  he  gave  Mrs. 
Green,  as  he  called  her,  the  use  of  the  latter 
for  the  purpose  of  arranging  her  toilet  before 
supper. 

When  Laura  was  upstairs  Mark  was  looking 
out  of  the  window  of  the- major's  office.  He 
saw  the  men  ride  off  to  overtake  Mrs.  Fain. 
To  his  consternation  another  cavalryman,  with 
a  letter  in  his  belt,  mounted  his  horse  and 
dashed  down  the  road. 

Laura  came  down  at  that  moment  and  Mark 
said  to  her  anxiously  : 

"  I  am  detained  on  suspicion.  I  shall  be 
taken  back  to  Chattanooga,"  and  he  pointed 
to  the  courier. 

The  color  left  Laura's  cheeks.  They  had 
got  so  near  to  safety,  and  no\v,  after  so  many 
dangers,  the  end  was  at  hand.  She  could 


CHATTANOOGA.  2OI 

scarcely  sustain  herself  as  she  tottered  into  the 
room  occupied  for  the  office. 

This  is  the  letter  the  courier  bore  north 
ward.  It  was  addressed  on  the  envelope  to 
Captain  Cameron  Fitz  Hugh,  near  Dunlap. 

ANDERSON,  August  29,  1862. 
MY  DEAR  CAMERON  : 

A  man  purporting  to  be  Thomas  Green,  with  his  wife, 
formerly  a  Miss  Fain,  of  Chattanooga,  is  here,  desiring  a 
pass  to  the  Union  lines.  There  is  something  suspicious 
about  the  man.  The  couple  are  separated  from  the 
wife's  mother  and  the  father  lies  very  ill  at  Nashville.  I 
dislike  to  detain  them,  and  I  do  not  regard  it  safe  to  pass 
them.  Can  you  help  me  out  of  the  difficulty  ? 
Yours  very  truly, 

WALLACE   TALIAFERRO. 

Major  Taliaferro  •  soon  joined  Mark  and 
Laura  in  his  office,  and  offering  his  arm  to 
Laura  led  the  way  to  the  supper-room.  His 
treatment  of  both  was  most  deferential,  but 
it  failed  to  deceive  either  that  they  were 
prisoners. 

There  was  a  strength  of  nerve  in  Mark  that 
would  not  break  while  there  was  hope.  He 
chatted  with  the  host  or  jailor,  whichever  he 
might  be  called,  with  ease,  and  at  times  with 
gayety.  Not  so  Laura.  The  situation  was 
too  frightful  for  her  to  endure  without  some 
manifestation  of  anxiety.  She  ate  nothing. 


202  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

She  did  not  hear  what  was  said  to  her,  and  her 
eyes  plainly  showed  the  troubled  spirit  within. 
Mark  made  no  reference  to  her  condition  till 
after  supper.  .  Then,  when  all  three  went  out 
on  to  the  veranda,  he  said  to  her: 

"  Come,  let  us  take  a  stroll.  You  have  been 
traveling  all  day,  and  this  delay  troubles  you. 
A  walk  in  the  air  will  revive  you." 

Mark  assumed  with  such  apparent  careless 
ness  that  he  was  free  to  walk  about  where  he 
liked,  that  Taliaferro  had  not  the  will  to  stop 
him.  Besides,  he  had  no  heart  to  interfere  with 
the  pleasure  of  a  woman  whom  he  was  pretend 
ing  to  treat  as  a  guest.  The  couple  walked 
leisurely  down  the  road,  Mark  looking  at  the 
sunset  tints  with  well-assumed  indifference,  oc 
casionally  pointing  to  some  object  by  the  way 
or  in  the  distance,  calling  Laura's  attention  to 
it  at  the  same  time.  He  knew  the  major's  gaze 
was  fixed  upon  him  and  he  was  doing  all  this  for 
a  purpose. 

The  road  led  straight  from  the  house  a  short 
distance  and  then  entered  a  wood.  As  soon 
as  they  were  concealed  behind  the  trees  Mark 
stopped  suddenly  and  turned  to  Laura: 

"  My  God,  this  is  terrible  ! " 

"You  are  lost!"  said  Laura,  faintly.  She 
could  scarcely  speak  the  words. 

"//  Yes,  I.     But  you — what  have  I  led  you 


CHA  T  TA  NOOGA .  203 

into  ?  Why  was  it  not  over  on  that  morning 
when  it  was  intended  ?  Then  you  would  not 
be  implicated,  now  your  good  name  is 

"  No  one  will  trouble  me,"  she  gasped. 
"  But  you — they  will  drag  you — 

"You  have  protected  me — a  spy.  Not  only 
that — that  is  nothing  in  comparison  with 
having  passed  as  my  wife.  There  is  a  blight." 

"  I  can  bear  it." 

"  There  is  but  one  way  out  of  this  disgrace. 
You  must  be  married  before  we  return  to  that 
house.  And  to  whom  ? "  his  voice  changed 
from  a  rapid,  excited  tone  to  deepest  gloom, 
"to  one  who  must  die — die  on  the  scaffold. 
At  any  rate  you  will  be  free.  You  will  be  a 
widow." 

Laura,  stood,  the  very  impersonation  of 
despair. 

"  All  I  can  do  to  atone  for  this,"  Mark  went 
on  rapidly,  "  and  it  is  nothing — is  to  make  you 
my  wife,  since  I  have  passed  you  as  such. 
Laura,  will  you  marry  me  ?  " 

She  looked  at  him  earnestly.  Her  eyes  were 
big  with  deep  emotion.  There  was  a  look  in 
them  that  he  could  not  understand. 

"No!" 

"Then  I  can  do  nothing  for  you." 

"  I  will  marry  only  the  man  who  loves  me, 
and  whom  I  love." 


2  04  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

"  O  Laura,"  he  said,  "  if  your  heart  were  only 
mine  !  then  it  would  be  different.  I  love  you 
so  well,  I  worship  you  with  such  fervor  that  I 
would  go  back  to  that  dreadful  jail  without  a 
word,  could  I  place  you  where  you  were  before 
you  met  me.  But  you " 

Laura  burst  into  a  torrent  of  tears.  This 
man,  who  had  so  suddenly  appeared  in  her 
life ;  who  had  won  her  sympathy,  who  had 
compelled  her  admiration  ;  who  had  absorbed 
her  whole  being  into  his  daring,  chivalrous, 
reckless  nature — this  man  loved  her,  and  he 
was  doomed  ! 

With  a  cry  she  threw  her  arms  around  his 
neck. 

"  Laura,  sweetheart,"  said  Mark,  caressing 
her,  "we  have  but  little  time.  We  know  not 
whom  we  shall  have  to  face.  My  true  character 
must  soon  be  known.  Will  you  give  yourself 
to  one  who  will  doubtless  to-morrow  be  claimed 
by- 

Pale  as  ashes,  she  put  her  hand  over  his 
mouth  that  he  might  not  speak  the  word — 
"death." 

"  Will  you  ?    Speak  !  " 

"Yes,  now,  quick,  what  can  we  do?  " 

"Marry  ourselves." 

"How?" 

He  grasped  her  hand.    There  was  a  ring  upon 


CHA  TTAtfOOGA.  205 

it — a  plain  gold  band  ;  he  took  it  off  and  put 
ting  it  on  her  finger  again,  said: 

"  I,  Mark— 

"Is  it  really  Mark?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  Mark  Maynard.  I,  Mark,  take 
you  Laura,  to  be  my  wife.  Do  you  take  me  to 
be  your  husband  ?" 

"I  do." 

"Then  we  are  man  and  wife  in  the  sight  of 
of  God " 

"  And  for  man  we  care  not." 

"  Man  and  wife  under  the  law.  We  are  really 
married." 

Scarcely  was  this  hurried  ceremony  over 
when  a  cavalryman  came  riding  leisurely  from 
the  direction  of  headquarters.  He  had  been 
sent  by  Major  Taliaferro — who,  as  soon  as 
Mark  was  out  of  sight,  became  anxious  with 
regard  to  him — with  instructions  to  keep  him 
in  sight  without  appearing  to  do  so. 

There  was  nothing  left  for  them  to  do  but 
return  to  the  house.  As  they  walked,  Mark 
whispered  : 

"  I  feel  again  all  the  confidence  I  have  ever 
felt.  I  must  live  to  make  you  happy.  Be 
ready  for  anything  that  may  happen,  my  dar 
ling,  my  wife.  I  shall,  doubtless,  play  some 
bold  game ;  I  don't  know  what,  but  it  will  be 
bold.  If  I  leave  you  suddenly,  meet  me  (should 


2o6  CHATTANOOGA. 

I  succeed  in  my  attempt)  within  the  Union 
lines.     If  not  we  will  meet — in  heaven." 

These  few  words  were  all  that  Mark  had  time 
to  say  to  his  newly  married  wife.  For  scarcely 
had  they  turned  to  go  back,  when  they  met  the 
major.  He  was  uneasy  lest  Mark  should  depart 
without  leave.  He  accompanied  them  back  to 
the  house. 


XX. 

FLIGHT. 

IT  was  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening.  Major  Talia- 
ferro  and  his  guests  were  sitting  in  his  office 
room  chatting.  A  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs  was 
heard  at  the  front  of  the  house  and  some  one 
dismounted.  In  another  moment  there  was  a 
tramp  of  cavalry  boots  in  the  hall ;  all  turned 
to  the  open  door — and  there  stood  Captain 
Cameron  Fitz  Hugh. 

For  a  moment  he  regarded  Mark  and  Laura 
sternly,  then  advancing  a  few  steps  he  bowed 
low  to  Laura. 

"Captain,"  said  the  major,  rising,  "  I  suppose 
it  is  useless  to  deny  to  this  lady  and  gentleman 
that  I  deemed  it  my  duty  to  make  sure  of  their 
identity  before  allowing  them  to  pass.  The 
family  to  which  they  claim  to  belong  is  known 
to  you  ;  therefore  I  sent  to  you  for  information. 
I  see  you  have  answered  my  inquiry  in  person. 
If  you  vouch  for  them  I  shall  be  happy  to  pass 
them  in  the  morning  and  shall  apologize  for 
their  detention  at  the  same  time — my  excuse 
being  the  cause  we  serve." 
207 


2o8  CHATTANOOGA. 

All  eyes  were  fixed  on  Fitz  Hugh,  Mark's 
and  Laura's  with  ill-concealed  anxiety. 

"  This  was  Miss  Fain,"  said  Fitz  Hugh. 
"  She  would  not  be  traveling  as  any  man's 
wife  unless  she  were  married  to  him.  If  you 
detain  them,  you  must  do  so  on  your  own  re 
sponsibility." 

Both  Mark  and  Laura  drew  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"I  have  no  desire  to  detain  them,"  said 
Taliaferro,  "after  what  you  have  said;  but  it 
is  altogether  too  late  for  them  to  proceed  to 
night.  The  only  amends  I  can  make  for  dis 
commoding  them  is  to  make  them  com 
fortable.  Mrs.  Green,  your  room  is  ready  for 
you." 

The  pain  that  would  otherwise  have  attended 
this  scene  was  alleviated  in  Laura's  heart  by 
the  delight  she  felt  at  a  prospect  of  safety  for 
her  husband.  She  gave  her  former  affianced  a 
look  of  gratitude.  Then  she  glanced  at  Mark 
for  instructions.  Seeing  no  hint  in  his  eyes 
she  passed  out  of  the  room  and  went  upstairs. 

"  Captain,"  said  Mark,  "  may  I  beg  a  cigar? 
I  usually  smoke  at  this  time  of  night." 

"  Here  are  cigars,  gentlemen/'  said  Talia 
ferro,  producing  a  box. 

"  If  you  smoke,  Captain,"  added  Mark,  "  I 
shall  be  pleased  of  your  company." 

"  With  pleasure." 


CHATTANOOGA.  2O$ 

All  lighted  cigars,  and  Mark  and  Fitz  Hugh 
strolled  out  on  the  veranda. 

"Captain,"  said  Mark,  as  soon  as  they  were 
outside.  "  I  have  never  met  a  man  whom  I 
have  so  admired,  so  honored,  as  you  ;  and  yet 
I  have  robbed  you  of  your  love.  This  last  act 
of  kindness  to  her  and  to  me,  so  well  indicat 
ing  your  magnanimity,  is  more  than  I  can  bear. 
I  cannot  accept  anything  more,  even  for 
her  sake.  I  cannot  stay  here  to  be  shielded 
by  you  and  behind  her  skirts.  I  am  about  to 
leave  this  veranda  and  fly  to  the  Union  lines. 
Thank  God,  I  have  one  who  is  the  soul  of 
honor,  in  whose  charge  to  leave  my  wife.  Con 
sider  her  under  your  care.  She  will  doubtless 
need  all  you  can  give  her,  for  I  expect  never 
to  see  her  again.  I  shall  doubtless  be  captured 
before  to-morrow  noon.  If  you  were  not  my 
enemy,  if  you  had  not  been  my  rival,  I  would 
love  you  as  a  brother." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  Mark  left  the 
veranda,  and  in  another  moment  was  lost  in  the 
darkness. 

Captain  Fitz  Hugh  stood  as  one  petrified. 
So  many  conflicting  emotions  were  within  him 
that  nothing  seemed  real.  For  a  time  he  was 
in  a  sort  of  stupor.  When  he  emerged  from  it 
the  first  thing  that  took  definite  shape  in  his 
mind  was  a  deliberation  as  to  what  he  should 


2  tb  CHA  TTANOOGA. 

do.  Should  he  go  in  and  confess  all  to  the 
major?  Should  he  keep  the  secret  ?  Laura's 
secret.  He  leaned  against  a  pillar  of  the  ve 
randa  and  passed  his  hand  over  his  brow. 

He  could  not  stab  Laura  ;  he  could  not  even 
betray  the  man  who  had  left  her  in  his  care. 
He  did  nothing. 

Half  an  hour  elapsed,  when  Taliaferro,  who 
had  been  busying  himself  with  some  papers, 
began  to  wonder  what  had  become  of  the  two 
men.  He  got  up  and  went  out  on  to  the  ve 
randa. 

"  Where's  Green  ?  "  he  asked  quickly. 

"  Gone." 

"  Gone  ?-" 

"  Yes,  gone  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Cameron  ?  " 

"  It  means  that  I  have  been  keeping  from 
you  what  I  can  keep  no  longer,  or  I  would. 
This  man  Green  is  a  Federal  spy." 

Taliaferro  threw  up  his  hands  in  horror. 

"  And  you  have  been  protecting  him  !  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Cameron — my  friend — great  God — are  you 
a  traitor  ?  There  is  something  back — tell  me, 
quick." 

"  Twice  before  he  has  crossed  my  path.  He 
was  taken  and  tried  at  Chattanooga.  I  was 
detailed  to  defend  him.  I  had  never  seen  him 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  *  1 1 

before.  He  was  found  guilty  and  sentenced 
to  be  hanged,  but  escaped. 

"  When  I  met  him  again  it  was  at  the  Fains' 
house.  Laura  Fain,  the  woman  upstairs,  then 
my  betrothed,  but  now — his  wife,  was  conceal 
ing  him." 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  I  saw  that  she  was  infatuated  with  him. 
She  claimed  him  for  her  guest.  I " 

"  Well,  go  on." 

"  I  could  not  honorably  inform  on  him." 

"  Oh,  Cameron  !  —  what  absurdity  —  what 
idiocy — what " 

"  This  afternoon  you  sent  for  me.  I  came. 
I  saw  the  man  I  had  seen  twice  before — with 
my — with  the  loveliest,  the  noblest  of  all  women 
— his  wife." 

The  major  only  stared  at  his  friend  ;  he  had 
no  words  to  express  his  feelings,  his  sympathy. 

"  When  we  came  out  here  he  told  me  that 
he  would  accept  nothing  further  for  himself  at 
my  hands ;  that  he  would  not  shield  himself 
behind  a  woman's  skirts.  He  walked  away  be 
fore  me." 

"  And  you  ?  " 

"  I  permitted  him." 

Taliaferro  shuddered.  He  knew  that  his 
friend,  by  his  act,  had  placed  himself  in  a  terri 
ble  position. 


2i2  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  Cameron,"  he  said,  "  do  you  know  you  are 
liable  to  be  shot  for  this  ?  " 

"  I  do." 

"  I  always  told  you,"  the  major  went  on 
anxiously,  impatiently,  "  that  your  notions  of 
houor  were  absurd,  quixotic." 

"  The  highest  sense  of  honor  is  never  quix 
otic.  It  is  best  fitted  fora  Christian,  a  soldier, 
and  a  gentleman." 

"  And  do  you  expect  me  to  let  this  spy  go  ?  " 

"  No.  Protect  yourself — the  cause.  Send 
after  him.  It  is  I  who  have  connived  at  his 
escape,  not  you.  You  must  not  suffer." 

"  The  cause  alone  is  enough," 

"  Orderly,"  he  called,  to  a  man  standing  by 
the  gate. 

The  soldier  approached  and  stood  at  atten 
tion. 

"  Go,  tell  Captain  Heath  that  the  man  who 
was  here  this  evening  has  gone,  and  I  want  him 
followed  and  brought  back.  Tell  him  to  send 
by  all  the  roads." 

The  man  saluted  and  went  away. 

"  Cameron,"  said  the  major,  after  giving  the 
order,  "  God  grant  that  this  act  of  yours  may 
not  be  known.  It  will  not  be,  for  I  am  the 
only  one  who  knows  of  it,  and  it  will  never 
pass  my  lips." 

"  I  am  responsible  for  my  acts,  and  if  it  be- 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  213 

comes  known  I  trust  I  shall  have  courage  to 
meet  the  consequences  like  a  man." 

"  And  now,  Wallace,"  he  continued,  "  I  am 
going.  The  young  wife  who  was  left  in  my 
charge,  I  leave  in  yours.  I  would  gladly  pro 
tect  her  myself,  but  I  prefer  to  spare  her,, the 
pain  of  being  under  my  protection.  If  her  hus 
band  is  taken,  and  she  needs  me,  send  for  me." 

"  Cameron,  you  are  leading  me  to  hope  that 
he  will  not  be  taken." 

Fitz  Hugh  went  to  the  gate  near  by  where  his 
horse  was  standing,  and  mounting,  rode  away. 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone,  Taliaferro  called  a 
negro  woman,  and  told  her  to  go  to  the  lady's 
room  and  ask  her  (if  she  had  not  gone  to  bed) 
to  come  to  him,  as  he  had  a  communication  to 
make.  Laura  had  no  thought  of  taking  off 
her  clothes.  She  was  waiting  for  what  might 
happen.  When  she  received  the  major's  mes 
sage,  she  went  down  to  him  with  a  heart  beat 
ing  wildly. 

"  Madam,"  said  the  major  deferentially, 
"your  husband  has  gone." 

"Where?"  asked  Laura,  with  a  blanched 
cheek. 

"  He  walked  away  in  the  presence  of  Cap 
tain  Fitz  Hugh,  who  would  not  detain  him,  or 
inform  me  that  he  had  gone  till  he  was  obliged 
to  do  so." 


2 1 4  CHA  TTANOOGA . 

Laura  clasped  her  hands,  and  mutely  breathed 
a  blessing  on  the  man  who  had  spared  her  hus 
band  for  her  sake. 

"  How  long  has  he  been  gone?  "  she  asked. 

"  More  than  half  an  hour." 

"  Have  you  ordered  his  pursuit  ?  " 

"  I  have." 

"  And  he  has  a  start  of " 

"  Thirty  minutes." 

"  You'll  never  take  him.  He  bears  a  charmed 
life." 

"  And  now,  madam,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ? 
My  friend  charged  me  to  see  that  you  have 
every  attention." 

"  I  will  go  on  and  join  my  mother." 

"  To-night  ?  " 

"  To-night — now." 

"  Your  phaeton  shall  be  at  the  door  in  a  few 
minutes.  You  must  accept  my  escort.  There 
will  be  a  guard  beside." 

"  It  is  not  necessary  for  you  to  go." 

"  I  shall  not  permit  you  to  go  without  me." 

"  Orderly  !  Hey  !  orderly  !  The  lady's  phae 
ton  at  once.  And  send  for  a  corporal  and  six 
men." 

In  ten  minutes  Laura,  Major  Taliaferro, 
seated  beside  her,  six  stalwart  cavalry  men  in 
gray  about  her,  was  on  her  way  to  join  her 
mother. 


XXI. 

THE   BALL   IS   OPENED. 

MARK  knew  the  direction  of  the  roads  lead 
ing  from  Anderson,  and  believed  that  he 
could  avoid  the  pickets.  Making  his  way  over 
a  space  covered  with  bushes  and  a  low  growth 
of  timber,  he  struck  the  road  by  which  he  had 
come  that  day  at  a  point  beyond  the  vedette. 
Then  half  a  mile's  run  brought  him,  out  of 
breath,  to  a  house.  The  occupants  were  not 
asleep,  and  Mark  succeeded,  by  persuasion  and 
threats,  in  getting  a  horse  to  take  him  to 
Slack's,  promising  to  send  it  back  the  next  day 
with  liberal  pay  for  its  use. 

He  arrived  at  Slack's  shortly  before  midnight, 
and  his  horse  fell  exhausted  in  the  yard. 
Slack  received  him  with  a  shot-gun  pointed 
through  the  crack  of  the  door.  Mark  made 
himself  known  and  asked  for  his  uniform  and 
his  arms.  The  old  man  got  them  for  him,  and 
taking  them  to  the  stable,  Mark  put  them  on. 
Then  he  went  to  the  stall  where  his  horse 
stood.  The  mare  knew  her  master  when  he 
threw  his  arms  about  her  neck  and  seemed  as 
glad  to  see  him  as  he  was  to  see  her. 
215 


2l6  CHATTANOOGA. 

"Ah,  Madge,  my  darling!  once  on  your 
back,  old  girl,  and  the  devil  may  catch  me  if  he 
can." 

He  lost  no  time  in  putting  the  bit  in  her 
mouth,  and  strapping  on  the  saddle.  Then, 
putting  his  foot  in  the  leather-covered  stirrup, 
he  lifted  himself  into  his  seat. 

For  the  first  moment  in  ten  days  Mark  felt 
the  comfort  of  being  in  the  saddle  with  his 
arms  about  him. 

A  few  steps  took  him  out  of  the  barn  ;  then 
turning  his  horse's  head  in  the  direction  from 
which  he  had  approached  the  place  with  Souri, 
he  rode  away  among  the  trees.  Before  going 
a  hundred  yards  he  stopped  and  listened. 
Some  sound  had  caught  his  ear.  It  was  the 
gallop  of  horsemen.  He  waited,  dreading  a 
neigh  from  his  own  horse,  which  he  patted  to 
hold  her  attention.  The  horsemen  passed  on 
down  the  road. 

"  Ride  on,  brave  boys,"  said  Mark,  "  if  you're 
after  me,  the  faster  you  go  in  that  direction 
the  better  I'll  like  it." 

In  the  light  of  the  waning  moon  he  trampled 
over  the  shadows  of  leaves  as  on  a  "  crazy  quilt." 
He  crossed  the  Sequatchie  by  the  ford  over 
which  Souri  had  guided  him,  and  took  care  not 
to  head  too  far  down  stream,  as  he  had  done 
before.  Then  he  crossed  the  creek  near  the 


CHA  TTANOOGA.  217 

fallen  log.  He  struck  the  road  by  which  he 
had  left  Jasper  just  south  of  the  fork  at  which 
Souri  had  halted  him.  Without  hesitating  a 
moment  he  struck  out  at  a  brisk  canter  over 
the  left  of  the  two  roads — the  one  leading  to 
Tracy  City. 

Mark  had  never  experienced  such  sensations 
as  now.  On  his  own  fleet  horse,  his  carbine 
slung  on  his  shoulder,  his  pistol  at  his  side,  on 
the  road  to  the  Union  camps,  a  wife  whom  he 
adored  to  join  him  in  case  he  should  arrive 
safely — why  should  not  the  spirit  within  him 
fairly  glow  with  hope? 

And  never  had  the  beautiful  Madge  borne 
her  rider  with  such  evident  exhilaration. 
Mark's  feelings  seemed  to  be  infused  into  her, 
as  she  sped  on,  her  iron  shoes  dashing  sparks 
from  the  stones,  far  brighter  than  the  light  of 
the  waning  moon  glistening  on  the  barrel  of 
his  carbine. 

He  reached  Tracy  at  sunrise.  He  did  not 
dare  to  go  through  the  place,  so  he  skirted  it, 
and  once  above  it,  rode  along  the  mountain 
plateau  over  a  road  leading  directly  north. 
He  was  now  familiar  with  the  country.  Arriv 
ing  at  a  place  called  Johnston's,  he  struck  off 
to  the  right  to  Purdons,  where  two  roads  join, 
leading  from  there  to  Altamont. 

Mark  struck  the  main  stem  a  few  hundred 


2i8  CHATTANOOGA. 

yards  from  the  junction.  As  he  rode  up  a 
slight  rise  on  to  the  road,  he  cast  his  eye  to  the 
right.  There,  standing  at  the  fork,  was  a  Con 
federate  cavalry  vedette. 

He  saw  Mark  as  soon  as  Mark  saw  him. 
Shouting  to  the  rest  of  the  picket  post,  he 
dashed  forward. 

"  Now  for  it,  Madge  !  " 

The  animal  knew  by  his  tone  that  there  was 
work  to  be  done,  and  although  she  had  been 
out  since  midnight  she  began  the  race  with 
vigor.  On  sped  the  Union  soldier,  followed  at 
a  few  hundred  yards  distance  by  the  Confeder 
ate,  and  half  a  mile  by  several  others  of  the 
picket  post.  Mark  was  within  range,  but  his 
pursuers  did  not  care  to  draw  rein  in  order  to 
fire,  doubtless  fearing  that  if  they  should  fail 
to  bring  him  down  by  the  bullet,  he  would 
escape. 

,  Madge  did  nobly,  and  had  she  not  been 
riding  up  a  mountain  side  for  three  or  four 
hours  would  have  easily  distanced  her  pur 
suers.  As  it  was,  the  man  who  followed  first 
was  gaining  rapidly.  Mark  knew  that  he  must 
either  dispose  of  this  fellow  or  be  taken. 
Coming  to  a  slight  bend  in  the  road,  he  rode  a 
hundred  yards  beyond  to  a  place  where  his 
pursuer  must"  suddenly  appear  around  the 
trees.  Reining  in  his  horse,  he  faced  about 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  219 

and  stood  still  with  his  carbine  at  an  aim.  As 
soon  as  the  man  appeared  Mark  fired. 

The  Confederate  fell  from  his  saddle  and  his 
horse  made  off  into  the  woods. 

Mark  turned  and  was  soon  again  flying  for 
ward.  He  judged  that  he  could  not  be  very 
far  from  the  Union  pickets  between  him  and 
Altamont.  Looking  ahead  he  saw  a  horseman 
standing  in  the  road.  Whether  he  was  Union 
or  Confederate  he  did  not  know;  but  there  was 
no  way  to  escape  the  remainder  of  his  pursuers 
except  by  keeping  right  on  and  trusting  to 
meeting  a  friend.  As  he  rode  on  he  noticed 
that  the  horseman  wore  a  forage  cap.  This 
looked  well,  for  the  Confederates  nearly  always 
wore  hats.  Then  he  could  see  that  the  man's 
body  had  a  dark  hue.  It  must  be  blue.  At 
last  he  came  near  enough  to  discern  yellow 
facings. 

There  was  a  whistling  of  bullets  by  his  ears ; 
he  turned  his  head  and  saw  that  his  pursuers 
had  halted.  They  had  evidently  seen  the 
Union  picket  and  fired  a  farewell  volley  at 
the  fugitive. 

Private  Mark  Malone  was  within  the  Union 
lines;  his  mission  was  ended. 

Mark  was  taken  to  the  officer  in  command  at 
Altamont.  On  the  way  from  the  picket  line 
he  was  informed  that  the  place  was  occupied 


220  CHATTANOOGA. 

by  McCook's  Division.  When  he  reached 
headquarters  he  made  himself  and  his  mission 
known,  and  in  a  few  minutes  a  cypher  telegram 
was  on  its  way  to  General  Thomas  at  McMinn- 
ville : 

Bragg  at  Dunlap  yesterday  with  no  force  except  a  few 
cavalry.  Cheatham  and  Withers  marching  north.  The 
main  army  gone  by  rail  from  Chattanooga  on  the  28th  to 

Knoxville. 

PRIVATE  MARK  M ALONE. 

Ten  minutes  later  the  spy  was  sound  asleep 
on  a  camp  cot  in  a  tent  belonging  to  one  of 
the  staff. 

Mark  had  had  no  sleep  for  twenty-eight 
hours,  and  for  much  of  that  time  he  believed 
that  he  would  be  retaken  and  hanged.  Now  he 
slept  a  deep  sleep.  Hour  after  hour  went  by, 
and  though  bugles  called  and  drums  rattled, 
he  slumbered  on.  He  dreamed  that  he  was  at 
Chattanooga.  He  was  standing  on  the  scaf 
fold.  Soldiers  surrounded  him.  The  noose 
was  adjusted  about  his  neck.  He  heard  the 
sound  of  the  ax  as  it  cut  the  rope.  He  awoke 
with  a  cry. 

Laura  Fain — no,  Laura  Maynard — his  wife — 
was  standing  beside  him. 

She  sank  down  by  the  cot,  and  in  a  moment 
they  were  in  each  other's  arms.  Neither  spoke. 
Neither  wished  to  do  aught  but  leave  tears— 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  2  2 1 

tears  of  an  exquisite  happiness — to  flow  on 
silently. 

Mark  and  Laura  were  too  happy  to  ask  each 
other  questions  as  to  what  had  passed  since 
their  parting  the  evening  before.  They  knew 
they  were  happy  and  that  was  all  they  cared  to 
know.  Laura  knew  that  the  frightful  doom 
which  hung  over  Mark  so  long — for  it  seemed 
an  age  to  her — had  been  averted.  Again  and 
again  she  passed  from  the  remembrance  of  her 
terrible  anxiety  to  the  thought  that  he  was 
under  his  own  flag,  and  she  was  his  wife.  She 
reveled  in  these  transitions.  She  would  go 
over  every  anxious  moment;  she  purposely 
dwelt  on  that  brief  but  terrible  ceremony  which 
had  united  her,  only  half  a  day  before,  with  one 
whom  both  considered  doomed,  that  she  might 
experience  the  exquisite  sensation  of  turning 
from  it  to  her  present  delight. 

For  a  time  she  saw  in  Mark's  face  only  a  re 
flection  of  her  own  happiness.  He  was  feasting 
his  eyes  upon  her,  passing  his  fingers  through 
her  dark  hair,  or  smoothing  it  back  with  his 
hand,  while  he  covered  her  face  with  kisses. 

Suddenly  a  thought  seemed  to  come  between 
her  and  him. 

"What  is  it,  darling?  "  she  asked  anxiously. 

"  I  was  thinking —  -"said  Mark.  "  But  no;  I 
will  not  think  of  that." 


222  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  Tell  me." 

"  I  was  wondering — Laura,  did  you  love 
him?" 

Laura  cast  down  her  eyes. 

"  Love  ?  Was  it  love  ? "  She  asked  the 
question  of  herself.  "  It  was  a  summer  breeze  ; 
while  this " 

"This?" 

"  Is  a  tempest." 

Drawing  her  lips  down  to  his,  before  im 
printing  a  kiss,  Mark  added  to  her  simile: 

"  A  «  wild  west  wind.'  " 

"You  are  thinking  of  your  Shelley,"  she 
said.  "  I  shall  love  him,  too,  now,  since  it  was 
he  who  betrayed  you  to  me." 

"And  I  shall  love  him  the  more  because  he 
betrayed  me — and  made  me " 

He  did  not  finish.  He  was  thinking  of  the 
morning  in  the  garret  when  in  her  imperious 
way  she  had  claimed  that  saving  his  life  had 
made  her  its  owner.  She  remembered  it,  too, 
and  smiling,  finished  for  him  : 

"  And  made  you  my  slave.  But  who  made 
me  '  your  lyre  even  as  the  forest  is '  to  the 
west  wind  ?  " 

Her  caresses  prevented  a  reply  for  a  time. 
When  there  was  a  pause,  Mark  exclaimed  won- 
deringly  : 

"  O  woman,  why  must  you  so  often  deny  to 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  223 

the  worthy  that  which  you  may  give  in  such 
abundance  to  one  whose  only  recommendation 
is  an  ability  to  catch  your  fancy  ?  " 

Again  there  came  into  his  face  the  expres 
sion  of  a  thought  which  seemed  for  the  moment 
to  carry  him  away  from  her. 

"  What  is  it  now  ?"  she  queried  anxiously. 

Mark  smiled.  "You  will  laugh  at  me  when 
I  tell  you." 

"  Then  you  must  be  laughed  at." 

"  I  was  wondering  if,  when  I  get  back  to 
headquarters,  the  general  will  want  me  to  go 
right  away  on  another  mission." 

Her  arms  were  about  him.  She  drew  a  little 
away  and  fixed  her  black  eyes  upon  him. 
They  shone  like  those  of  some  savage  but 
beautiful  animal  about  to  be  bereft  of  her 
young. 

"  If  you  go  again,"  she  said  fiercely,  "  into  the 
presence  of  such  a  death,  I  will  go  with  you." 

Mark  made  no  reply  except  to  throw  his  arms 
about  her  neck  and  draw  her  to  him  again. 
Her  fierceness  was  with  him  her  chief  charm. 
Then  he  made  an  effort  to  rise. 

"  Stay  where  you  are,"  she  said,  in  the  same 
imperious  tone  she  had  given  the  order  once 
before,  when  he  threatened  to  leave  the  garret ; 
"you  shall  lie  there  till  you  promise  that  you 
will  be  a  spy  no  more." 


224  CHATTANOOGA. 

"  Let  me  up,"  cried  Mark,  smiling  at  her 
earnestness. 

"  Lie  still !  " 

"  Come,  sweetheart,"  he  said  pleadingly,  "  let 
me  get  up,  and  I'll  say,  with  Hotspur  to  his 
Kate, '  when  I'm  on  horseback,  I'll  swear  I  love 
thee  infinitely.' " 

Mark  was  on  his  back,  his  arms  pinioned  ; 
he  was  powerless.  He  was  surprised  at  Laura's 
strength. 

"  Promise." 

"  Never !  " 

"  Promise." 

"  Why  so  ?  I  know  I  shall  be  dying  to  go 
again  in  a  week." 

"  Then  you  shall  lie  there  till  the  war  is 
over." 

"  But  I  thought  you  told  me  once  that  if 
you  were  a  man  you  would  be  all  I  have  been." 

"  So  I  would.  And  you,  being  a  man,  might 
continue  to  be  so  were  you  the  husband  of  any 
other  woman  ;  but  mine,  never!  " 

Mark  looked  into  her  eyes  and  knew  that  his 
career  in  the  secret  service  had  ended.  The 
savage  opposition  he  saw  there  to  his  ever 
again  risking  such  a  death  as  he  had  but  a  few 
days  before  barely  escaped,  was  too  strong  for 
him.  Where  was  his  adroitness,  his  ingenuity, 
his  readiness  in  peculiar  situations?  Vanished 


CtfA  TTANOOGA.  $2$ 

under  the  gaze  of  his  young  wife.  At  last  he 
was  subdued  by  a  girl. 

The  arrival  of  Laura  the  night  before  at  the 
farm-house  where  her  mother  had  stopped  and 
awaited  her  coming  anxiously,  their  resumption 
of  their  journey  the  next  day,  during  which 
Laura  confessed  all  to  her  mother,  their  safe 
arrival  within  the  Union  lines,  the  finding  Mark 
at  headquarters,  may  be  passed  over  in  these 
few  short  phrases. 

Mark's  meeting  with  his  mother-in-law  was, 
to  say  the  least,  embarrassing.  Mrs.  Fain  re 
ceived  him  with  the  same  dignity  that  had 
characterized  her  throughout,  but  without  her 
former  cordiality.  As  yet  she  knew  nothing 
about  his  connections,  and  she  disdained 
to  ask.  But  Mark  had  satisfied  Laura,  and  the 
information  she  transmitted  to  her  mother  was 
in  a  measure  mollifying. 

That  afternoon  the  party  that  had  ridden 
into  Anderson  the  day  before,  rode  out  of 
Altamont  in  the  direction  of  McMinnville.  To 
all  outward  appearance  the  situation  was  the 
same  ;  but  really,  how  different !  Yesterday 
Mark  was  in  imminent  danger,  while  Laura 
was  in  a  state  of  terror.  Then  they  rode  with 
scarcely  a  word.  Now  language  was  inade 
quate  to  convey  all  they  wished  to  ex 
press. 


226  CHATTANOOGA. 

In  the  evening  the  party  drew  up  before 
General  Thomas's  tent  at  McMinnville. 

Mark  went  inside. 

"  General,"  he  said,  "  you  received  my  tele 
gram  ?  " 

"  I  did." 

"  Had  you  not  received  the  information  be 
fore  ?  " 

"  If  we  had,  why  should  we  be  here  ?  " 

There  was  a  brief  pause. 

"  I  have  brought  something  besides  informa 
tion,  general.  May  I  introduce  a  party  waiting 
outside?  " 

"  Certainly." 

Mark  went  out  and  brought  in  Laura  and 
her  mother. 

"  General,  permit  me  to  introduce  my 
wife." 

The  general  looked  at  the  blushing  Laura, 
then  at  her  mother,  then  at  Mark,  in  undis 
guised  astonishment. 

"  I  thought  you  had  been  on  a  scout,"  he 
said. 

"  I  have." 

"  And  courted  and  wed  at  the  same  time?  " 

"  Yes,  general." 

"  Be  seated,  ladies.     Now  explain  all  this." 

Mark  gave  an  outline  of  his  adventures,  his 
listener's  eyes  opening  wider  as  he  proceeded. 


CHA  TTANOOGA .  227 

When  the  recital  was  finished  the  general  called 
out. 

"  Orderly  !  " 

In  a  twinkling  a  man  was  standing  in  the 
tent  waiting  an  order. 

"  Send  for  Chaplain  Gadsden." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I'm  a  trifle  uncertain  about  that  wedding," 
remarked  the  general.  "  I  think  we'd  better 
have  it  done  according  to  the  regulations." 

All  smiled  save  Mrs.  Fain,  who,  since  she 
had  been  informed  of  all  that  had  occurred 
from  the  time  of  Mr.  Slack's  arrival  at  her 
house  to  Laura's  joining  her  the  night  before, 
maintained  a  rigid  and  dignified  silence. 

While  they  were  waiting  for  the  chaplain, 
the  general  wrote  a  telegram  to  Mr.  Fain  at 
Nashville,  announcing  the  arrival  of  his  wife 
and  daughter.  He  did  not  mention  the  son- 
in-law. 

The  chaplain  came,  and  the  bride  and  groom 
were  wed  again ;  this  time  with  ample  wit 
nesses,  for  the  whole  staff  had  been  ordered  to 
"  report  in  person  at  headquarters  to  witness 
marriage  ceremony."  The  general  gave  the 
bride  away,  and  after  the  benediction,  offering 
his  arm  to  Mrs.  Fain,  led  the  way  to  another 
tent  where  a  collation  of  foraged  viands — 
foraged  unbeknown  to  the  general,  and 


228  CHA  TTAtiOOGA. 

consisting  principally  of  cold  chicken — was 
served.  Unfortunately  there  was  not  a  glass  of 
wine  in  camp  for  the  ladies,  the  only  spirits  be 
ing  "commissary"  whisky  and  the  "Robin 
son  County  "  of  the  country. 

While  the  party  were  refreshing  themselves, 
word  was  received  from  Nashville  that  Mr. 
Fain  was  out  of  danger  and  impatiently  await 
ing  his  wife  and  daughter. 

After  communicating  this  pleasant  bit  of 
information,  the  general,  turning  to  Mark,  said  : 

"  I  shall  need  you  hereafter  on  my  staff.  I 
have  learned  from  your  colonel  that  there  is  a 
vacant  lieutenancy  for  you  in  your  regiment, 
and  I  will  issue  an  order  detailing  you  for  duty 
with  me.  But  this  rank  need  be  only  temporary. 
The  army  is  about  to  be  divided  into  army 
corps,  and  my  troops  will  constitute  one  of 
them.  Under  the  recent  law  fixing  the  staff  of 
corps  commanders,  I  shall  nominate  you  for 
inspector-general,  with  rank  of  lieutenant-col 
onel,  to  be  appointed  by  the  President." 

For  the  first  time  since  she  had  been  ap 
prised  of  the  fact  that  her  daughter  was  a  wife, 
Mrs.  Fain  looked  happy. 

"  General,"  said  Mark,  "  while  I  appreciate 
the  honor  you  so  kindly  bestow  upon  me  I 
would  prefer,  were  it  not  for  my'wife,  to  remain 
in  the  secret  service.  She  certainly  deserves  the 


CHATTANOOGA.  229 

distinction  you  offer,  and  I  accept  it  for  her. 
I  rejoice  at  the  prospect  of  being  near  you 
and  shall  Jiot  be  averse  now,  since  I  have  so 
much  to  live  for,  to  a  service  not  connected 
with  a  constant  reminder  of  hemp  rope." 

At  this  juncture  an  aide-de-camp  entered 
and  handed  the  general  a  telegram;  He  cast 
his  eye  over  it,  and  said : 

"  The  ball  is  opened.  Nelson  is  fighting  the 
advance  of  Bragg's  army  at  Richmond,  Ken 
tucky." 


THE  END. 


A    MODERN   KNIGHT. 


ORMSBY  MACKNIGHT  MITCHEL, 

ASTRONOMER   AND   GENERAL. 

A  Biographical  Narrative  by  his  Son,  F.  A.  MITCHEL, 
With  Steel  Portrait.     Crown  %vo,gilt  top,  $2.00. 


THIS  life  of  the  famous  astronomer,  and  hardly  less  famous 
general,  written  by  his  son,  and  supplemented  by  his  own 
remarkably  full,  informing,  and  interesting  letters,  is  a  biog 
raphy  of  special  value.  General  Mitchel  was  one  of  the 
most  thoroughly  living  men  America  has  ever  produced, 
and  his  immense  energy  was  guided  by  keen  intelligence, 
trained  judgment,  and  a  noble  moral  purpose.  The  portion 
relating  to  the  War  for  the  Union  is  not  a  superficial  narrative 
of  military  movements  and  battles,  but  traces  the  operation  of 
those  principles  which  were  at  the  heart  of  the  conflict,  and 
the  moral  and  political  forces  which  decided  the  fate  of  armies. 


From  the  New  York  Tribune. 

The  life  of  General  Mitchel  is  memorable  for  a  valuable  work 
accomplished  under  extraordinary  difficulties  and  with  far-reach 
ing  beneficial  results,  but  the  chief  interest  of  his  memoir  by  his 
son  lies  in  the  extraordinary  exhibition  of  a  strong,  well  balanced 
character,  tested  under  strangely  contrasted  conditions  and  ring 
ing  out  the  same  clear  note  in  the  silence  of  an  astronomical  ob 
servatory  and  in  the  roar  of  battle.  His  distinguishing  traits  were 
those  of  the  pioneer — eagerness  to  push  forward,  discontent  with 
inaction,  impulsive  courage,  quickness  of  resource,  a  self-confi 
dence  almost  audacious,  and  above  all  an  aptness  for  the  initiative, 
lie  was  not  only  ready  to  strike  into  new  paths,  but  he  was  the 
first  to  find  them,  and  he  wanted  no  promptings  to  go  on.  In 
whatever  business  occupied  him  he  seemed  to  be  the  original  cen 
tral  energy  which  started  and  sustained  the  movement.  .  .  . 


From  the  Cincinnati  Commercial  Gazette. 

General  Ormsby  M.  Mitchel  left  a  record  in  science  and  in  the 
art  of  war  to  which  students  of  both  will  long  turn  for  enlighten 
ment  and  for  a  high  example.  He  was  the  first  American 
astronomer  of  his  day,  and  among  the  generals  of  the  civil  war  he 
had  no  equal  for  far-reaching,  aggressive  combinations  and 
rapidity  of  execution. 


From  the  Boston  Advertiser. 

In  reading  the  biography  of  this  man,  our  faith  in  human  nature 
is  increased.  He  was  a  great  man  in  the  truest  and  best  sense  of 
the  word  ;  and  his  life  is  one  that  can  'be  held  up  to  the  youth  of 
the  nation  as  an  example  for  generations  to  come. 


From  the  Hartford  Courant. 

This  biography  is  admirably  prepared,  and  is  thus  not  only  a 
memorial  of  the  soldier  but  a  chapter  of  history,  a  picture  of  Ameri 
can  life  for  the  period  spanned  by  the  life  of  the  subject.  It  is  full, 
clear,  abounding  in  detail,  and  of  interest  on  every  page. 


From  Prof.  DAVID  SWING,  in  the  Chicago  Journal. 

The  volume  differs  from  the  war  literature  which  has  been  so 
abundantly  produced  by  the  magazines ;  for  this  sketch  does  not 
abound  in  only  the  iron,  lead,  powder,  and  guns  of  the  conflict, 
but  also  in  the  mental  struggles,  hopes,  fears,  and  sufferings  which 
many  a  true  patriot  underwent  in  the  first  two  or  three  years  of 
the  great  crisis.  .  .  . 

This  biography,  written  with  a  most  just  and  eloquent  pen, 
makes  one  more  picture  in  this  vast  landscape  of  life  between  the 
two  oceans.  Ormsby  Macknight  Mitchel  was  once  a  common 
clerk,  then  he  became  a  student,  then  a  lawyer,  then  a  great 
astronomer,  then  a  general  and  an  active  Christian  philanthropist. 
Eloquent,  original,  enthusiastic,  learned,  pious,  and  loving,  his 
name  stands  worthy  of  being  made  the  theme  of  a  volume.  In 
the  history  of  the  nation  this  life  will  always  fill  an  impressive 
and  beautiful  page. 


*#*  For  sale  by  all  Booksellers.     Sent  by  mail,  postpaid,  on 
receipt  of  price,  by  the  Publishers, 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO.,  BOSTON, 

ii  EAST  SEVENTEENTH  STREET,  NEW  YORK. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JUN  1 7  1988 

?G11  1961 
JUL  2  7  1962 


Form  L9 — 15m-10,'48(B1039)444 


PS         Mitchel  - 
2399     Chattanooga, 

M69c 

1891 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONA   LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000066427  6 


PS 

2399 
M69c 
1893. 


